Tempus Fecking Fugit.

Walking back to Anna Mann from the Paradox, the sound of someone playing one of Cat Power's more miserable songs on the SU piano receding behind me, the rain getting heavier and splashing down into my cup of honeyed blackcurrant tea, I just kept thinking thinking about how Tim had just reminded me we have only three months and ten days left here, and that pathetic fallacy was fully in action for once, despite me having an actual real life rather than being a character in some cheesy movie. Because three months and ten days? Is not enough.