Bench

I wish I felt comfortable alone on a bench. Enjoying the view, thinking my thoughts. Basking in the fresh air, the sun. A summer's day. But I don't, never have. Even with a book I feel unrelaxed. Conscious, perhaps, that I'm taking up a bench – nobody will sit next to a single person in case they strike up a conversation. I wouldn't. Okay, I might, if the silence felt awkward or the stranger's presence was too difficult to ignore, restless. It's so difficult to be comfortably alone – in the open. Conscious, perhaps, that I look nervous or suspicious. Too conscious, perhaps, of people, none like me, on their own.

Picture credit: Bench, 1881, Edouard Manet (source: WikiArt).

From journal, March 2023.