Wisdom is bought not with coins but with hours

Do you remember as a child, being bored? The hours were so long then, interminable stretches of time waiting for something to happen. We thought that life was something that happened to us. And when nothing happened, we were bored. How we wished we could have just skipped the time until the next main event ... "Are we there yet?" "When is it?" "Why doesn't anything ever happen?"

And then we grow old - or perhaps not - and suddenly the finishing line is ahead. Somewhere along the road we learned that life isn't something the world does to us, it is something we do to the world. But now there is so little time. The harder we close our hands around the sands of time, the faster they run out between our fingers. How we wish that we had those hours of quiet, those long days of nothing important, of just being young and alive and full of restless energy.

And we, who once killed time, not knowing that it was our life ... now we say like Goethe's Faust, to the moment: "Please stay, you are so beautiful!"  And then it is over.