At first it was by pleasure, filling it all with whatever came from the deepest parts of himself, or closer to the surface. Point was: he liked to do it, a lot, and so he didn’t mind it to do it, also a lot.
In that fashion, years passed, he grew old and his passion dull. Each thing produced wasn’t a new smile for him but rather just a new number, not a joy, but an unit. At which point this started?.
He couldn’t say, but it must have been around the time when he realized that living wasn’t always a matter of enjoying what you do, and that to keep bellies full, your quota was more important than anything.
For: https://steemit.com/freewrite/@mariannewest/day-559-5-minute-freewrite-thursday-prompt-quota