As I watch the sun slowly begin to light the sky on this, my final, morning in Vienna, I find myself slipping into a space of reflection. I am packing away the last few things that I don’t plan on leaving behind in the hotel room, and every glance I make towards the window shows a morning that, with increasing swiftness, is overtaking the night. And in this strange space between day and night (well, not so strange, as they usually call it dawn), I seem to have found a perspective that hasn’t yet hit me, at least not in full, over the past six weeks. I am realizing how incomprehensibly large my time in Vienna has been. Though it seems to have flown by, especially now in these last moments where one begins to field unreasonable regrets of time expenditure, I feel that it, at the same time, passed by in an infinite number of smaller pieces. For all the feeling knows, I might have been here all my life. In those smaller pieces, as well, were numbers of opportunities with an equally endless horizon.
And now, as distant doors begin to sound as they slam against their frames, I can see that the sun has completed its journey up the horizon without my noticing. In just the same way passed these past few weeks, with debatably extraneous noise scoring enchanting glimpses into the unconscious, reaching their end not so soon as they began. Now, to catch a plane.