John

London, November 2010

Those few drops of a perfumed alcohol. On the lobe, on the pulse, under the jawline, in the pit of the collarbone, on the wrists and one well situated just above the sex. Thus, ready to face the external world  with strength I put on my Pink Panther T-shirt and the sweatpants I only ever wore at home. Drunken with the Sandal wood in my perfume I roll up in the sweetness of the almond scent coming from my clean bed sheets. I stretch out my extremities. I drink a herbal tea. I munch on some sesame biscuits. Toilet break. I turn on my mac book, my only contact with the external world in the past month. Overwhelmed with the external world. Offended by the noisy brutality of the outside. I lock myself in as it is not necessary for me to go out. First week I was signed out for illness. Second week I realized I can handle my work from home. I have enough food to last and no need to go to the office.