One beside oneself alone in singularity
Deep in thought one wonders about it all. The comforts of a hermit or the embrace of strange places where you are invisible in a crowd and safe in the multitude of faces that will never be remembered.
It is that season where everyone appears to find family if you have created one or it is close and suddenly you realise, you are alone and seriously part of nobody’s plans.
They are all gone, either for a while or forever as you stare at the same surroundings you woke up in or seek the attention of those paid to make their ends meet, else they would also be with family.
Things have been left undone, unplanned, unsettled and unsure; this is one Christmas that might well be over long before it started.
Deep in thought one wonders, be a hermit or be a stranger? I wonders.
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