We’ve always got eyes out for our furry neighbor. Shy Cat spends just as much time trying to avoid our overly-enthusiastic gaze. Too bad for him, Jake’s vigilant.
[Sighting: Maori Hill, Dunedin, NZ]
LOOK AT THE KITTY.
I don’t feel nearly as shy as Shy Cat must (I gather this based on the coyness that brims in his eyes) but I do feel similarly lurky, sometimes. Don’t want all those eyes on me. (PS: I’m craaaazy.)
I listen in the kitchen and wait until the comfortable sounds of the pots and the pans stop clanging until I fix my bachelorette meal of granola and yogurt. (It qualifies as a bachelorette meal if you’ve eaten it for breakfast as well.) I sit in the room with the one lamp lit, the one that washes the walls in that warm, creamy yellow, and I close the window a bit because the chill’s come in after the rain and the evening and I sit on the bed on the duvet with that big flannel shirt over my knees watching a movie that came out in America five years ago and the room is nice, but feels too big, too empty, and I’m glad that there’s no one to see me here, but for me.
I feel like I use the gaze in the photo above when passing others on the street. Sometimes I feel buoyant with lightness, and freedom. Other times I just want to be home and by myself, talking to no one until the morning.