I have little energy for anything except work. I work to bring in the extra cent, because tomorrow I may have nothing. When I am not working, I am sparring. But, this, too, is work. I duck and weave. My guard and stance are close to perfect, now and then.
When I am not working, I prefer to lounge around, and sleep.
It is only then that I dream of environments that can speak to me.
More than once, a large, evacuated department store enters my train of consciousness. We enter, stealthily, for it is night. Once inside, I explore the various floors, which have been robbed of their conventional meanings,and now have an eerie, airy all-function quality. I wander through the building that might be opened to the public in a day or two.
I find the third floor, and I enter an area that has been set aside as a gym. It's a kind of cold storage room that has been converted into an exercise space. I am bouncing at the end of a rope and not drowning as I had expected to. (The water from the ice box behind the central space does not go over my head as I had anticipated.)
There are young Czech men trying to advertise their need for a partner, but I see that they will be unsuccessful with their formulaic, factual advertising.
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