It’s a Saturday evening, and it’s about that time…that pleasurable torment of the few minutes of bliss between the upcoming darkness and the light of day dwindling away. I’m in my usual burrow, my sanctuary that is my safe zone. It is, in this exuberant moment, that I feel most alive. No noise, no squeaking doors…just me, my drink, and my cat as some of you know as PoPo. My eccentric self tells me that this is all but normal, while most would say otherwise. But, it’s in my nature to be reserved, the un-gregarious nature of most, to be out on a beautiful night like tonight. Assertively cerebral, you might say, but I consider it a compliment, for those who might be insulted by such a notion. Always the contemplative in knowing and what I will do next, never impulsive, unless I’m driving, which I am intently working on. All I want is to enjoy, a serene lifestyle, with plenty to read and my imperative need to write. When I am alone, I have no need to acknowledge my decorum, putting on an act (if you will), to blind myself, from being seen, as I wish to remain unseen, as much as possible. It has been a correlated effort between the very few that I see personally and explicitly know, that my alone time, is more therapeutic, not to mention peaceful.