For some weeks now I have been in seclusion and mostly unplugged, and trying like hell to quit the tabaccy.
The first two have been easy to switch off, have been in fact, a kind of relief. The third ain't been easy, though has been helpful in getting me off the hook for the other two. Can't talk, ma, I'm tryin' to beat the nicotine; the phone's a real trigger. Can't come, friends, lest I up and murder somebody.
But the truth is, I have needed this seclusion, have craved it, have dreamed about it for some years. Save my usual commitments to the galleries, quiet time spent with the husband when he isn't traveling, and visits from the kids, I am deep in the throes of aloneness.
Rather like this:
Oliver on Solitude and the Imps of Idea