I am in a prison of business and busyness. A cycle of work and sleep and no passion. Food without taste, water that doesn’t quench, eating just to vomit later. There is nothing useful that I can do, not that I have the time for when energized, or that I have the energy for when not pressed for time. It is that loath-able form of traffic, when you go slow enough not to see any real progress, but moves just enough to force you to give it your attention and energy.