Getting out

Last night I volunteered at a nobel laureate reading event. I was tired. I get nervous about going out at night, like I somehow think i might actually crawl under a table and just go to sleep in public. The actual event was lovely. The reader had a beautiful Caribbean accent. The imagery was lovely. But really, what caught my attention, what thrilled me was watching the audience arrive. The hair styles, the clothes, the lipstick, the hats. I forget how removed I am right now from the flow of the city or of anything. I work from home or in a secluded space in my writing studio. With the baby I walk around Lakes, we see runners, but not people who are out. I see friends and go to happy hours, but these are small gatherings, early evenings.