Technology has turned us into the equivalent of playing an old record at 78rpm. Life is too fast, no time for anything, or anyone. The extract below was taken from a poem called Slow Dance, written by a terminally ill girl in a New York Hospital. The most profound words I have read for a long time:
When you run so fast to get somewhere,
You miss half the fun of getting there.
When you worry and hurry through your day,
It is like an unopened gift thrown away.
Life is not a race,
Do take it slower.
Hear the music,
Before the song is over.
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