incompatible truths

We can yell through the walls at our neighbors. Yell to George to have a good one. Not because we love each other, it's because the walls are thin. It's possible to hear everything. I can tell you that George has already left for the day. I heard him leave. I always hear the door slamming. I know exactly when he comes and goes. This is the way it is in these apartments. When someone dies in their apartment (when, not if), we know about it from the disruption of patterns. I was there when they had to break the door down to carry —- out next door. When ladies on the first, second, and third floors passed. I wouldn't be in my apartment now if some old woman before me hadn't died here. Thank goodness she never took up the carpets and was too poor to renovate, it means we have original details. There's no point saying goodbye to George through the walls, is what I'm getting at, because by sunup, George has already been gone for hours. Seems nice, but the effort is wasted.

Trying to find a place to sit in the cafeteria, as ever. Isn't there somewhere I can go and be alone, near a window maybe? Does it all have to be communal tables? Don't designers know that sometimes a person just wants to sit quietly without input or interference? It's not from lack of love it's more a matter of deep listening to an inner voice, the quietest of responses. If not attended to, this inner knowing will be drowned out by the much louder voices and demands of others, the energies of transiting planets, broadcast media, collective fear, wailing winds. I need quiet in order to hear. These noise cancelling headphones over earplugs are my last ditch attempt at following inner guidance. Call it self-absorbed, that doesn't hurt me. Self-centered? Yes, it is. What of it?