It is after two o’clock in the morning. Mostly empty word documents on my screen glare ugly and white; fluorescent lights glow pale and dreadful behind me. My little study corner feels like a hospital. I need a hospital, I suspect; my body is upset at me. My lips are burnt from drinking steaming hot coffee, and my stomach repines against the lack of any healthy food or drink. Nothing without caffeine has entered my body for a while now. Bib & Research is not going well and I am growing angry, almost letting myself slip into despair. Despair inheres in this silly class.
And then I play Tchaikovsky’s Violin concerto in D Major. I close my eyes for a few minutes, blocking out the glaring white. There are a few moments where I feel as if I were flying, and I suspect that this is much like dying will be. This is the eye of the storm; the peace will soon pass. This is the eye of God; the peace will not soon pass.