Time slips by, dust gathers, the light in my eyes is dimmed by reflective glare off the computer screen, the larder goes bare, and is not replenished, personal maintenance falls to a scant minimum, poets words, artists images, news reports and thinkers thoughts accumulate in my brain, vying for space in the files, where retrieval might be impossible without the original connective links. And so it goes.
My days indoors dwarf nature. A bird calls now and then, children in the playground below my window arrive, jostling one another for dominance, shrill, fade to silence, reappear at lunchtime, reminding me to eat, and evaporate in the late afternoon, reminding me to sign out, shut down, get outside, take a stroll into the rest of the world, where horns are blaring and every one is in such a terrible hurry to get somewhere else, quickly, beneath a dome of ancient sky. And so it goes. And so it goes.