seeing that--I prefer to be (by myself) because I am impatient. I have formed the habit of impatience.
BUT, I have taken time to know a person (people). And when I do take it, I prefer the company of another to that of my usual 3 favorite guests (me, myself, I). Coming to that place of preference requires time & tenacity, patience & persistence. That's to say it's the effort in that time that gives it girth & meaning. Maybe that's why it's easy to be alone, it's easy to be lost in my mind. Easy to forget that my mind would be a terrible place to dwell if it didn't have the portraits of those encountered lining her corridors & the framed images of places seen filling her walls. Books brimming with stories of them/you set on her shelves. See this too-- the blank wall space is endless & the shelves infinite, canvases stark- the palette beside ready with paint & blank books stacked-eager to be inked.
I like my coffee sweet but I don't take the time to add & stir the sugar--this is impatience, this is years of pretending to like my coffee black.
