"...one of those little pauses in the conversation of the City, then; a sudden unexpected quiet as everyone stopped to take a breath, and I get one of those little heart-leaps as a girl moves my way, I fall in love for ten seconds the way you do when you see one of those faces, those eyes..."
- Spider Jerusalem, via Warren Ellis (TRANSMETROPOLITAN)
The rule is, Saturday mornings my wife wakes up with Boy. When I get up, about an hour later, I make some loud stamps on the floor indicating my return to the land of the Living, and a few minutes later my wife appears with a steaming cup of coffee, which I get to sip at my leisure for another 45 minutes or so before heading downstairs. Right now it's that time, and I'm here reading the sixth volume of Transmetropolitan, marvelling at the way Ellis can put words together. But it's never enough time, and I know I have to put on the "Dad" face and go downstairs to join the maddening early morning sounds of chaos and disorder.
Every Saturday morning, I offer a silent prayer to suspend time.
"...Held breath for a moment of eye contact that burns into memory - a face I could look at for the rest of my life - and then she's walked by, the City resumes, fade up chatter and music - "
- Spider Jerusalem, unable to suspend time any longer than I can