Do you know the feeling when you are in a party that you don't belong to but has no way of getting out? Well, for 16 hours a day I am trying to fight off such trifling situations. This society has no place for me: I am a loner, stranger, foreigner, someone who is forever searching for her own circle to lie down, a circle of which she is comfortable with, only that circle of privacy is never sacrosanct, but repeatedly violated by some unforeseen worldly matters. Passersby pays scant attention upon me, those who do view me as if I were a rare species that survived the now homogeneous world, but not interestingly enough to be placed on the endangered species list, only to be poked here and there with a stick, to see how I would jerk and react. Their curiosity dies fairly soon, leaving behind the stick and the wounds it has engendered. So I dig deeper, run further away, become more taciturn, in search of my circle. A circle with which I can read and rest comfortably without a bother in the world. That place is distinct, yet so far away.