The next morning after finishing my interviews, I found myself with some time to kill before the bus arrived to return me to Whitby. The term "time to kill" suddenly sounded awfully harsh.Was "time to waste" better? No, "waste" is so un-Benedictine."Time to spend"? Too much of a material ring."Time to bum around?" Yes, it had just the right balance of self-effacement and no fixed address. Like Jesus.
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