As per usual, when I have had a day off I have been fairly prolific. Blogging in many ways is a solitary activity, particularly where a personal blog like this is concerned. It's the electronic equivalent of sitting in the cafe/bar, having a mocha and watching the world go by. You are present but not necessarily part of the scene, observing but non-participatory. You sit at the computer/laptop and project your thoughts onto the fabric of the web, and the same happens in the cafe.
I have managed, as is my wont, to do both today. I sat and read another's interpretation of the world whilst drinking coffee that somebody else made, watched other people play, talk, drink, read, laugh, watch and be. In a sense I was isolated within that space, observing everything outside of my bubble. What has just struck me is that I am doing exactly the same now, reading other people's blogs, looking at their photographs, reading interpretations and perceptions of the world that are not my own, sitting in bubble that is my study whilst the world goes on around me, so very much of it beyond my ken.
Sometimes the sheer volume, the absoluteness of human endeavour/sloth/happy little accidents that occurs every moment, all the time, without end or stop or brevity beggars my self-belief and comprehension.
Things are happening and I am not.
The world spins and I remain stationary. That thought leaves me feeling bereft. Like someone just died, and that someone was me.