It seems strange to me hearing old friends talk of the desire to live on thier own and even more so that they have never lived alone.
As desirable as it sounds, as life affirming as it can be, how can I warn them of the perils? How can any negative aspect impinge on the simple idea of a space to call ones own?
The command of ones domain, completely and utterly, the ability to do whatever the hell you want whenever the hell you want as naked as you want to do it is such a strong positive argument.
I offer this picture. A picture is worth a thousand words after all.
Waking alone, the first sight greeting your eyes an empty plastic bottle of ketchup. Then the slow but inevitable wash of memory.
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