I have never been so many places so close together in time proximity that I didn’t want to be! I sit on the floor of the gate with my back against the floor-to-ceiling glass. Some of us avoid the direct sunlight on the waiting room chairs, most suffer in silence.
I assumed that sooner or later a human being, me, would adjust to always being uncomfortable. But this isn’t the case. Every single place I have been lately I have adamantly, silently wanted out of! Even at Nissim’s on the Provencal mountain, in all that beauty. Even there, there were only moments of peace within myself.
I try to discern whether my discomfort is more about people than place. Without people: no noise, no interminable lines, no arguments, no security barriers, no judgments, no heat, no crowds, no broken English or French, no money problems, no smells.
I feel obligated to also list all of the good things that people add to life, but I can only ever come up with one: erotic physical contact. And beauty, or the creation of beauty, but beauty can be created in absentia and shipped.
How can such a lonely voyage be stuffed with so much unwanted human contact? I need a rest from humanity. I’m not very good at it. I hope the simple room I’m headed for is warm and quiet and full of touch. I need his touch, but the price is high. I must negotiate. That is the single most exhausting thing of all, negotiating for what we want and what we think we need.
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