Who Are the Others?

There’s nobody I know about other than myself. If I must claim to know someone else, they must be my own invention. I know no one. This is how I would like it to be. I know nothing. This is how I would like it to be. I cannot anticipate even what I might find walking down the familiar street of my neighbourhood. It is not so familiar. I do not recognize these apartment buildings; they are not the same ones I walked by yesterday. I stop at the end of the block. I stand on the corner and look both ways. I do not know what to expect. I hear water running and to me it sounds pleasant. This river wasn’t here before, was it? I would surely have been here every day if it was. It must be new. I am new. I do not know what to expect from myself today. I do not know what I might enjoy doing today.

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