#time wasted

Typing this post isn't helping.

In the evening all the hours that weren't used are emptied out and the beggars are waiting to gather them up to open them to find the sun in each one and teach it its beggar's name and sing to it It is well through the night

She had taken to wondering lately, during these swift-counted years, what had been done with all those wasted summer days; how could she have spent them so wantonly? I am foolish, she told herself early every summer, I am very foolish; I am grown up now and know the values of things. Nothing is ever really wasted, she believed sensibly, even one’s childhood, and then each year, one summer morning, the warm wind would come down the city street where she walked and she would be touched with the little cold thought: I have let more time go by.

And OH. MY. GOD.