Whether it’s a glass of bubbly or a slab of cake, I’m yet to befriend a human who doesn’t have some sort of coping mechanism to get them through this thing called life. One of my vices is the Horror genre – it’s the perfect form of escapism.
Sometimes I wonder if I genetically or chemically – although I suppose that would be the same element – have something wrong with me. I’ve always felt sad. I sit in this coffee shop, looking at a mother lifting her newborn baby into the air; the baby squeals in delight. A quote from Aristotle comes to mind. “On the first day of life there is nothing to remember and everything to hope.”