Tomorrow.

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Some days whizz by so fast that if it wasn’t for a small speed-breaker, it would’ve gone unnoticed.

There are somethings that change once you start working for a newspaper. For one, we’re always living for tomorrow. Stories for tomorrow, events for tomorrow, life today, but living it tomorrow. It’s such a rush, like we’re all racing to meet some weird deadline. Deadlines met today, only to meet some more tomorrow.

Sometimes, I carry that attitude back home. Who cares about today, let’s be bothered about tomorrow.
Until a day like this comes by.
Today, my mum’s migraine kicked in and she had to go to bed early. As I sat in the comfort of my room, working on a story and worrying about tomorrow, I caught a glimpse of my father eating his dinner alone. As simple as the moment was, it broke my heart.

Some days whizz by so fast that if it wasn’t for a small speed-breaker, it would’ve gone unnoticed.

Tomorrows are best left for newspapers, newsroom meetings and for stories.
Today is for life.

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