Here for the party in anticlimatic

It’s interesting– on a very deep level I need to be connected to society. There is just something that is so fundamental to human satisfaction at the heart of it. Sharing things, with others; seeing yourself, in others; drawing in others, to yourself…

Yet this is difficult, for me, as for the most part I cannot stand actual people. Almost always my first and only thought around them is how I can most quickly escape. So, instead of real people, I plug myself into stories. Great legends, and archetypes. History- or fantasy- or fantasy, loosely based on history.

While working in old houses I often think of the hands that laid the old brick, and I use that brick to map their hands- and with them, at least a part of their lives, and I sit them beside me as I work, and through the same building separated only by time we hold hands.