There's nothing that brings me more contemplative joy than sitting at the kitchen table, hands and face dirty from working all morning, to a cup of coffee and the calm still silence that is this place.
I can't fathom leaving. Honestly. I refuse to think about it.
I went back to the city last night to check up on my place and have dinner with some friends and I could just feel it sinking into me. Settling into my bones. This urgency and anxiety.
No matter where we stand or sit our rest our feet, the world - our lives - move too quickly. The speed of convenience has created this vortex of bustle and movement that is too much.
You want to know why depression wasn't as prevalent 60 years ago?
Because we took the time to calm the fuck down.
Create something with our hands.
Create a sense of pride.
So tell me, how am I supposed to go back to that noise now?
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