It's when you're chest-deep in emails, chasing after deadlines
that keep popping up like unrelenting crocodile heads you have to smack down in
that famous arcade game, and deskbound in a 9-to-6 (or 7-to-4 in my case), that
you really start thinking about the meaning of life.
Or rather, you start asking yourself: Am I really living?
Or rather, you start asking yourself: Am I really living?
