How To Read A 223-Page Novel In Just 77 Minutes
Spritz is a company that makes a speed-reading technology which allows you to get through a mass of text, reading every word, in a fraction of the time it would take if you were turning the pages of a book or swiping through a Kindle.
The basis of Spritz concept is that much of the time spend reading is “wasted” on moving your eyes from side to side, from one word to the next. By flashing the words quickly, one after the other, all in the same place, eye movement is reduced almost to zero. All that’s left is the time you take to process the word before the next one appears.
The company is selling licenses for other companies who might want to use the technology in operating systems, applications, wearables, and websites. Obviously, the tiny screen of a smart watch instantly springs to mind.
But the real revelation of Spritz is in trying it yourself.
I miss the physical feeling of being close to someone and falling asleep together. I miss this feeling with you and I miss it almost pre-emptively because I’ve not had it for long enough to grow accustomed to it. I miss drinking full cafetieres of coffee while studying poetry, looking onto the street of a city which I felt suffocated in but now miss its comfort. I miss the unimaginable and whimsical stress which I felt at this point in my life.
I miss being able to concentrate on something for more than two minutes and being able to idly eavesdrop in conversations in public transport without staring at people for just that little bit too long before it clicks that they’re talking about something I shouldn’t be listening in on. I miss feeling excited about starting something new, about writing, and learning. And you; your skin, your hair and everything else.
There’s no narrative to be drawn from the hopeless anger I’m feeling right now. Living in an apartment which no one else ever seems to leave, nor turn off the heating or lights for that regard - thus giving the impression of perpetual presence even when it is empty for maybe ten minutes a day. There’s no originality or humour to be drawn from the fact that I am peeved at the intrusion of my privacy nor the fact that despite being the only one working, the shower is always and only occupied when I need it. Every problem I have and all of the irritation I have is felt by a million other people but it still doesn’t stop my eminent rage.
It’s kind of like getting your heart broken on a small scale - your pain is so intensely personal to you that you want your story to be original and you genuinely think it is; no one has shared this one single unique connection with one other person. But they have, and life crawls on. In the same light, I’d guess that every second person is unhappy with their living arrangement. But life crawls on.
But we don’t fall in love because nothing drops and nothing can fall when it was never standing anyway. To fall generally connotes a clumsy mistake, a lapse in balance or a quick decline in our standing (literally and figuratively)
I have not fallen in love but willfully submitted myself to it. My loose limbs crash down frequently but they’re the only thing that truly falls. Love like sickly sweet and thick honey provides more sugar and charade, rotting. A different kind of decay but longer lasting than a fall.
“Maybe when people longed for a thing that bad the longing made them trust in anything that might give it to them.”