There was nothing on the box…

so last night I walked. I came to a dazzling beach-front unit-block and I loitered. Whipped by wind in the sea-misted dappled-dark, I spied on life. Little lives, busy passing, doing nothing, doing something. I could stand where I stood, and watch, night after night, the changes, the sameness, the fights, the sex.

Life, life, life, ahhhhh, life.

The livers of the lives would remain oblivious to my spying eyes…perhaps.

A mop-haired man lives on the first floor, his un-watched television flashes on white ceiling and window, begging him to “WATCH ME!”…but he seems lost in a book. I imagine his name is Phillip, and he has the TV on for company, not content. Suddenly, Phillip looks out the window, right at me, even though I’m hidden in shadows. He gets up, and closes his everybody-has-them-nowdays timber blinds.

At which point, I continued my walk.

Self-admiration society

One of my friends refers to me as “Poor Lilli” when she talks about me with mutual friends.

Whisperings and rumours. Words like “depressed” trickle from lip to lip. If only they knew the real half of it (ask me, ask me, ask me!).

I am neither poor, nor depressed. I was sad for a time, but I got on with life. And in the process of getting on with life, happiness, satisfaction, and contentment have come to me.

I am not to be pitied.

Admire me my friend.