Another late night on soul-stilling tasks that flew in through the transom after the fires were covered. And so, another late morning. The sins of yesterday will put the following mornings on edge.
Thinking about that scene in The Matrix (a true film), just before the protagonist signs on to his task. The Fellow opens the limousine door and shows him the life on street level. From memory of seeing it many years ago, every device of the cinematographer is enlisted to make it seem as if the story of the people in the limousine is the only possible story. Similar moments in other films. Not everyone has the decision-point of serving one of several powerful folks in the CIA, or dying on the street, but I think the right choice was made. Frankly, I prefer the Whitehall memoir version of the event, where the young, hapless fellow is back at the college in time for dinner, and then depending on the answer, enjoys a life of intrigue or prosperity in the City. But perhaps the set of published memoirs is not reflective of the whole.
See through the devices of the cinematographers. Help the fly out of the bottle, as W said. The consolations of philosophy displace other, more insidious consolations.