What if I lived in a library, a bookstore, and I could just lock the doors and read what I want to read? I could walk around when I wanted to and ride my bike for no reason.
I read a book one time about a crazed woman who lives in a museum. Sets fires. No one else seems to exist. She could be the last one but in her head it doesn’t matter at all what is going on in reality, and not for the reader, either.
I sat on my back porch for the first time in a long time and I feel as if it was the first time I saw the buildings around me. The light in the afternoon is getting longer and stronger.