I used to wonder: what’s the use of a city?

Just a big place to make spending money easier. I can walk down the street and buy a pastry or a record or a book, but I oughta bring that croissant or noise or spy novel back to my place and share it with somebody I care about, otherwise, what’s the point?

Sharing doesn’t cost a thing, and if it’s with someone you rightly love, it needn’t be modified by something terribly fancy.

The quiet life in the woods rapidly ceases to feel terribly quiet as you figure all there is to be done out here. From tending to the chickens to walking the woods or building furniture and making tea or sitting quietly by a rock twenty four hours of forest tends to tick by with all the urgency of 1,440 minutes spent on the subway or in the opera house. 

bozo.