Sometimes I have a fantasy about not having to work and being a writer all day. And then, rapidly, it passes as I think how much I would miss. The whispered argument on the train, the look on someone's face as they read a message, the twitch of someone's foot as they wait for a train to get in...
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His foot expressed his
frustration. Just yards from the
station, but they had stopped again. He
could phone, but the words needed the support of fists.
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I have the same fantasy. I know it would be a happy existence for me. Coffee and my laptop is all I need. Maybe in retirement...
ReplyDeleteThe sad thing was when I tried the visualisation technique and I looked at a woman on the train opposite me and imagined that the book she was reading was my book.
DeleteThen it hit me that even in my vision, that meant I was still commuting - I think I've been doing it so long, it is Stockholm Syndrome...