I have many private islands where I go to think and write. A park, coffee shop, diner, a hilltop. Here is where I create the literary equivilant of Wendy;s 4 for $4 deals. Fast, easily digestible, cheap reading.
Libraries have become problematic. People nap there. Adults bring noisy kids. Librarians speak loudly, castigating patrons for various infractions.
When I am with others, I nod a lot while listening, but my mind is miles away. In my private island I imagine myself receiving all sorts of literary rewards, maybe even Wendy's coupons. Sometimes when I speak and people nod, I wonder where their minds are. Are they tuning me out? Probably just a neck spasm.
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