It’s one in the morning.

I’m sitting in a leather chair that I bought years ago. These days it is really too difficult for me to get in and out of, what with my decaying knees. I’m sleeping in it too. Most of my possessions have been carted away, far away, by the movers. The previous few weeks have been spent packing up the things that I formerly found precious. I say ‘formerly’ because in the packing I came to hate most of them. No longer representations of beauty, they because physical burdens, at a time when I am old and burdens weigh cruelly upon me.
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