closeness is rare - by Nix 🕊 - starting from nix

I spent a lot of time on my roof of my last apartment. I’d take a speaker and watch seemingly one continuous stream of bodies, hopes, ambitions flow through the heart of the Mission District. I’d lay down a blanket and lie flat, my back pressed against a thin barrier between me and the ceiling plane below. The sky was usually clear, unassuming, indifferent to my antics: eating tacos from a La Taqueria, writing, reading. Back then I found the steady dance between solitude and togetherness that twirled through adulthood both terrifying and freeing. I still do. Big cities are just an entangled web of people all one degree removed from each other. I found it both intimate and jarring: being flung into proximity and expected to swim. But actual closeness is rare. Which is why in a crowded room or a bustling city you can still continue to feel terribly lonely. I was thinking, recently, about the way I glided on the surface of a lot of friendships in the past. I was always in large groups in

I spent a lot of time on my roof of my last apartment. I’d take a speaker and watch seemingly one continuous stream of bodies, hopes, ambitions flow through the heart of the Mission District. I’d lay down a blanket and lie flat, my back pressed against a thin barrier between me and the ceiling plane below. The sky was usually clear, unassuming, indifferent to my antics: eating tacos from a La Taqueria, writing, reading. Back then I found the steady dance between solitude and togetherness that twirled through adulthood both terrifying and freeing. I still do. Big cities are just an entangled we