I live in a fairly rural area. Not say, in the plains of Montana where the next ranch over is fifteen miles down the road, but rural, as in twelve acres on a small mountain with no street lights or stores for miles. When I visit New York, Boston, Montreal, D.C., or any other Eastern seaboard city, two things happen. Initially, I am enthralled by the lights, the bustle, and the very momentum of a metropolis. However, sometime later, I want to bar myself behind doors where I am out of reach of the eyes, ears, and judgements assaulting me.
It comes down to this -- as much as I love mankind, I weary of humanity.
So tonight, after a full day shopping, deal-making and dodging raindrops,I am triple-locking my hotel room door, grateful that I have this temporary shelter from the masses.
And going to bed.