Leisure, that was something someone who was, always late could never have, the leisure to take in things slowly, the freedom to take a step at a time instead of two, the absence of pressure, of rush.

Leisure, that was something someone who was always rushed could never have, until my professor said otherwise.

"Try it some time. Just ten seconds," he said. He was beaming when he said it. He was almost in a far away place but he was there and he was so real.

"Take ten seconds to listen, to watch. Look at the people around you," He encouraged us. "See how they walk! Notice what they're not doing. Notice what you're doing."

In a city where everything was alive, where everyone rushed as they moved around, in a place where one was forced to keep up with, or, lead the flow, in a country where people are accustomed to study twenty hours a day just so one could be seen as worthy, his idea seemed odd.

And so I wondered whether he was indeed a professor. His physical appearance made me think not. He was wearing a black turtle neck sweater that hugged his body in some--the right--places. His hair was a blond something. I didn't know how to call it for it was my first time seeing a hair of that style but it looked like a tidal wave all ready to fall but not quite. It looked like a wave frozen in time.

"Pause," he looked at me. "Look at the sun, the clouds. Listen to the silence, or at least, feel it," He said it in a dreamy way, as if he