Elif Batuman. Idiot (№ 416611)

I could not leave the thought of the unevenness of time, of how it is never filled with anything - until suddenly there are days so intense, tense, tangible that it seems to you indisputable - this is life, and you finally discovered its true nature. But then time dies unbelievably again, it turns out that all this fullness was a deviation from the standard and, perhaps, will not happen again.