There is no view where I am living for the next thousand hours. There is just a space in the ceiling that opens to let in the sounds and smells of life. Being alone is no longer difficult, and the older I get the more comfortable I am to live in a state of schizophrenia.
As a child I drowned myself within the pages of books, and as a writer I prefer to be left alone with my imagination. I no longer have a fear of dying and never will confuse the words solitude and loneliness again. I wonder however if I am left alone for too long, what I eventually will become. Gertrude Stein once said it was very easy to live and love alone, but will solitude always find the right words to put down on paper.
I got the idea about the number of words from my friend Susie Lindau and her Twenty Word Wednesday
Black and white photo by Linda Seccaspina