On the Present in Literature

It is easy to live for the day. All lazybones do that and legitimately those who have finally taken a rest and enjoy in a relaxed way what is offered to them. The more eventful the better since then it is easy to forget what happened before and since unconnected impressions can be grasped in a particularly fresh way, in a virtually raw way. And in the same way as one might live for the moment, although distracted and in a completely fleeting way, in a completely superficial way, one might write oneself equally easily and superficially into the day without worrying. Then, too, we pick and discard, every day anew and wilting whatever might happen during the day’s events. If this kind of day-picking was not effortless, then there would not be that many newly written newspapers. However, good things take time and some of it has to be in the newspapers, at least in those that are not filled with cliches. And taking time lets you gain distance from a thing in order to see it better.