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I heard someone singing while walking my dog through the neighborhood park. On my way home from the park I saw the neighbor steal a newspaper from another neighbor, who reads the newspaper? In my bedroom I browse old photographs of people I once knew but I know I’ll never see again. I waste many hours waiting for change. I go through my routines each day while things happen around me.

I dream at night a life full of other and places not my apartment or my neighborhood. I could move from here in real life if I had the means to move but I’m stuck here for now.

The light flickers above my head. I count the number of times I have replaced the bulb since moving here. My life is routine. I sit at my desk and I begin a list of things for a new routine. A routine of spontaneous things.

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