He lives an empty room saying loneliness. If he’s gone as far as his mind can see, how does he go beyond? He sees a wall obstructing him, there. There is no wall. Friendship doesn’t begin abruptly, there, as the surface of a sheet of glass, cold. Something, maybe acceptance, lives between, among. His mind first musst see the room with friends, warm. Then he must live it, step, by step, into, though it, saying happiness, happiness. I was lonely. I am happy. Happy!
December 1970