“Maybe it’s all just a hazard of midlife penury, I don’t know, but I rarely, if ever, sit in cafés anymore. Passing chatter, the general groan of a place, they no longer create that pocket of space I can enter, like a cave in an avalanche, and sit and wonder, wait it out, or not think at all. It’s just snow: the ambient sounds, the networked divisions of transit, a door swing, scuff of a shoe, the remnants of noise like the black of shadows in white light, waiting to be shuttled out by interruption. And if I am, on occasion, able to sit somewhere in public alone, that alone is borrowed like a shirt with my name sewn on it. Just there for someone to read back to me.”
—from “The Visitor”
4 thoughts on “Counter Life”
Awesome post! The passage fits in so perfectly with the photo, and captures so much of what I feel when I try to sit alone somewhere. I really like your work!
Thanks a lot. I appreciate the feedback.