Boredom

Boredom, idleness, all of that “not working” time. Sometimes it feels like it takes up a good portion of our days, others, almost none. It takes many forms.
That time at home, when there’s nothing to do, and you don’t want to push yourself to act. You just sit and take in whatever’s at hand. You let your mind wander and drift away, because there’s nothing demanding your attention.
Those waiting times, in line, in lobbies, in traffic, those liminal between spaces, where you’re separate from the world in a way, caught between reality before and reality after. It can feel tense, the minutes ticking by slowly, oh so slowly, waiting for that moment to come, when you’re called on, or the cars lurch forward ever so slightly, or when things just finally break from their stasis and just MOVE.
There’s the late night boredom, eyes open in a world gone to sleep. A world lit by streetlights or starlight or moonlight, but a world where the familiar has receded into the darkness, rendering it unfamiliar.
I like those moments. I savor them.

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