But as our urban lives have grown more pressed for time, we have diced our opportunity costs finer and finer; from budgeting days or slabs of hours, we have come to rationing minutes.
Her mother was a genuine clotheshorse. She had had more kimonos and dresses than room in their chests to store them […]
He drove for a mile or so between these hedges of tightly parked vehicles, their roofs and windows lighted by the sunset—beyond them, on the left side, the broad, still river moving silently past weighed-down willowtrees and mountains.[…]Beyond the basin bare willowtrees shone, dripping wet.
The mechanics fastened a doubler over the hole where the cracked section of the plane's skin had been cut out.
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DiQt
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