The Second that Never Arrives.

When I was a kid, Christmas came in three phases. First there was the anticipation, which became most intense on Christmas Eve. Then there was the climax, which lasted from waking up on Christmas morning until the end of the Christmas meal at lunchtime. Finally, there was the sense of anticlimax, which lasted roughly until December 27^th when the seeds of anticipation were sown again, ready to germinate approximately 363 days later. And the interesting thing about such a process is that, while the climactic stage contained the greatest pleasure, it was always the first phase which contained the magic.

And so it has always been for me with everything. I’m not the sort who can finish a meal, feel satisfied, and exclaim ‘Ah, that’s better.’ No. The end of a meal is always the beginning of the anticlimax. There was pleasure in the eating, but the magic was in the anticipation. And they’re both gone anyway, so what is there to feel satisfied about?

Do you realise what that means for me and others like me? Because the perception and pursuit of magic is of such paramount importance to us, we find it unsatisfying to live in the present. We spend our lives constantly living for the next second, but when the next second arrives, the magic disappears. The real next second never comes.