You eat. You drink. You wake and try to sleep. You write or you wait. They call or they won’t. The sun will shine or the rain will pour. You observe this; you may choose to ignore it. There’s work to be done; there always is. You wonder why you’re staring at a wall or at someone who won’t stop talking. Your mind’s not here, and neither’s your heart. Soon you will leave, whether you should or not.
The things you do when you’re alone, they’re not that different from the things you do when you’re not.
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illustration by frederic rodrigo gruger (1926)