Alas, a neighbour just arrived. She sported a yellowish-greeny bruise upon her left cheek. "Whoever did that to you is right handed.", I remarked. "My boyfriend is left-handed." In any case, when he hit her, he did so hard. I doubt she even felt it, bringing any number of alcoholic beverages with her. I know she is in to heroin. This is not good. It is not as though I can extoll the morality of Cicero or the Meditations of Marcus Aurelius, and have any note of recognition from an audience, both unaware, and uncaring. It is unlikely anyone about here knows who Cicero was. If I asked Didier about Plato, Cicero or Marcus Aurelius, he would tell me most everything about all of them.
This morning's turn of events merely makes me motivated, to go and see my old friend, so very learned in Classical culture.
Here, is only addiction, distraction, and domestic violence.
Do I wish to be here? Naturally, no. Of course not.
Would that I could dwell amidst the pure mountain air, the clear water and the climate of a learned gem-cutter, well versed, in Latin, and ancient Greek.
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