in my solitude: a series of musings
I love eating by myself. I can be as loud -- slurping, gnashing, moaning -- as I want to be. I can be improper and unladylike and as gross as I see fit. I can devour a banana in two gargantuan bites. I can savour pudding for as long as I like. I can use utensils if I want to, forego them if I don't. All in my own company. No one to gawk or chuckle at my less-than-stellar table manners. No one to rush me, no one to make the usual "were you raised by wolves?" comments. Sweet silence, sweet solitude, sweet food. I love going for long walks by myself. I can people-watch -- imagine that two strangers fall in love under the city skyline -- to my heart's content. I can pop into shops and peruse new book titles, clothes, albums, etc. I can saunter on a lazy, glum-filled day. I can walk at my own fast pace on happy, loved-up days. All with only me for company. No one can tell me to "slow down" and that I "walk too fast for a short girl". No one ...