At work. At home.
As if I never existed.
To know I’m not tied by expectations of being present, physically at least.
To know I can take off, without being missed and that it doesn’t matter.
To know that I don’t miss them either.
To witness what I do not want to see. To be part of what I do not want to be part of. To know what you are thinking.
Of life as it has been led – like Lucky and Pozzo as they wait for Godot.
Of the fact that Godot does not exist and that it has all been futile. And that it no longer needs to be futile like that.