It's been a few days. I think I'm brave enough to open my book and do some writing. And by my book, I mean the novel that's been very poorly neglected. In fact, maybe you didn't even know I was writing it. Well, now you do. Great. Giving myself expectations to live up to that aren't mine now.
The question at hand was why dank, wretched, dirty little hovels make for the best creative space. The answer is surprisingly simple: When you have absolutely no distractions, no material wealth, and very few standards to live up to, it is shockingly easy to see beauty and feel love in those dark places. Every little thought, act, feeling, reaction - it all feels like more somehow. When you're not sure where your next meal is coming from, it's actually easier to stop and smell the flowers. When you don't know if you'll have a roof over your head the next night or not, well, it makes it a lot easier to wait for the train home while sitting somewhere out of the way on the platform. And if you're told that only (insert racist slang term for local native peoples here) sit on the kerb while having a snack, and you're the kind of person who feels injustice at that, the remark makes it easier to just stay sitting. (Don't y'all see that I'm clearly not the kind of person you can put a label on and walk away from? I'm asking you by my non-interaction to engage with me on a soul level because that's where I'm at and that's how I'm seeing you right now and it would be just oh so amazing if you'd deign to come down here and show me who you are underneath your skin...)
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