Karl: “Généralement, je prends un livre ou un carnet de notes. Je lis ou j'écris donc. L'attente est ce moment unique et précieux presque luxieux, où il faut se donner le temps de ne rien faire, d'être définitivement abandonné.”
Karl is talking about waiting, of which I've done very much. His take on waiting on waiting is a positive: he is essentially saying that waiting lets you discover the beauty around you. In the above quote, he reports bringing along a book to read or a notebook to write in. I've always brought a book to read whenever the wait is going to be longer than a half-hour: this is especially true when when waiting for a bus and then waiting on the bus—because there is nobody to talk to—for it to reach my destination. Until recently, I never brought something to write with, because writing on the bus is nearly impossible. Nearly impossible, but not impossible, since some people are able to do it. Now, with the purchase of a too-expensive laptop, I find myself the only one on the bus writing down my thoughts, which can be to-do lists, short article ideas, or even sometimes writing about the people across the aisle from me. (How would they know?) Most of the books I've read are from having waited for something to happen. I'm early for most things, which means a lot of waiting. The only thing that I won't have a book at the ready is just before job interviews, though sometimes there are magazines in the waiting area.
These days my time is a little more valuable, and there is not a lot of commuting because of the ability to work at home, so there hasn't been as much waiting as usual, and therefore not a lot of time to read books. Little commuting, and therefore little waiting, has meant during the months of November and December I was not able to finish a book. (Granted, at this writing, December has a few days remaining, and the book that has taken me nearly a year to read is almost done.) The most book reading this holidays was on Boxing Day, between "breakfast" and dinner, waiting for the latter.
