Waiting is a way to cultivate intimacy with time. It is my method of research: I am waiting. People have told me that I shouldn't enjoy waiting, as though there were something wrong in this wait. I am depressed, they say, or scared. Or maybe I prefer to inhabit a world of promises and dreams, or I am just plain lazy. It took me long to realize that waiting is a choice. There is nothing I long for more than waiting. As I do things, I long for the time when I will be able to just wait. Waiting is an intrinsic part of our experience of time. It is the practice of expanding the fabric that lies behind events, behind facts, where empty chunks of time fly by with no direction. It is a space of ruin, nakedness, a space of pure relation. Waiting is the truth.