Old, grey-haired waitresses in cafes at night have given it up, and as I walk down sidewalks of light and look into windows of nursing homes I can see that it is no longer with them. I see people sitting on park benches and I can see by the way they sit and look that it is gone. I see people driving cars and I see by the way they drive their cars that they neither love nor are loved - nor do they consider sex. It is all forgotten like an old movie. I see people in department stores and supermarkets walking down aisles buying things and I can see by the way their clothing fits them and by the way they walk and by their faces and their eyes that they care for nothing and that nothing cares for them. I see a hundred people a day who have given up entirely. If I go to the racetrack or a sporting event I can see thousands that feel for nothing or no one and get no feeling back. Everywhere I see those who crave nothing but food, shelter, and clothing; they concentrate on that, dreamlessly I do not understand why these people do not vanish I do not understand why these people do not expire why the clouds do not murder them or why the dogs do not murder them or why the flowers and the children do not murder them, I do not understand. I suppose they are murdered yet I can’t adjust to the fact of them because they are so many. Each day, each night, there are more of them in the subways and in the buildings and in the parks they feel no terror at not loving or at not being loved so many many many of my fellow creatures
origamiaround
areudirty
ellievsbear
amandla
yousharknotpass
2087
