I Prefer To Sleep and Dream

I prefer to sleep and dream than face this solitary room. No pity, I go on without a drink and look with gay eyes on my future in a forest or a city, someplace. It's very amusing, what a middle class boy like me came to, isolated in the northwest corner of this island, caught in the deepest loneliness and yet in my heart all this joy. Surrounded by buildings I am not at peace yet strangely I am, not like a zen master but as a man in the wind who when most despairing and oppressed is most released. Old records, old unloved books. Sara's cheek is a source of pleasure, but she has a friend with whom to share it and can depend on him for companionship throughout the week. So I ride the subway home. I look at faces and they look at mine, mute, animated spirits. A crazy woman pushes aboard and exhibits herself. To her, the passengers' glances are caresses.