Max Frye. A book for people like me (№ 126109)

Sunday morning promises a freedom that is impossible to use... No, not even that. Freedom, which is not. Freedom, which is actually only a short respite. Sunday morning is much more false than morning any other day of the week. Plans born by the light of a Sunday morning, is not to be. I will say more: in my childhood I found that Sunday is much shorter than any weekday. This is contrary to the laws of nature, however it is. On Sunday, the running time is felt almost physically. It takes to hold on to him to keep in the hands of the wind. And again. Every Sunday night is a bit like a funeral, but it is less painful than Sunday morning: waiting for the verdict is always more difficult than to put up with him.