Every day feels the same.
I get up. I buy two yoghurts and a bottle of water. I go to my therapy. I find something to eat. I write, sort pictures, do things, meet up with friends. Then I go and find more things to eat.
Like an amoeba.
It’s not like all of this is bad in any way. It’s just that every day feels the same.
Although the more I think about it, the more this seems to be untrue.
For example: today was different from yesterday, because today I went and took the metro. I had never done that before:
People here tell me that the construction of this metro (which seems to consist only of a dozen stops) took a very long time. Like twenty years or so. But it turned out pretty nice:
After this I walked around town for a while and looked at buildings.
Buildings with shops:
Buildings with balconies:
Buildings on street corners:
Buildings with lots of people in them:
They didn’t know that there was an amoeba looking at them.