WHAT YOU'VE BEEN DOING
You have been renting an hour you used to just have.
There was a time when the late afternoon was simply yours: a chair, something warm in a cup, a pause. Then the surface noticed people liked it, moved it into a hotel, added tiers and a booking system and a three-figure price, and photographed the result until the ordinary version felt like something you had to earn back.
You didn't lose it. It was quietly repossessed.
They put your grandmother's teatime behind a paywall. Climb over it.
