My brother in law sent me this article about the glories of solitude and boredom.  It reminds me of the scene in Inglorious Basterds when Shoshana is in the bar, reading alone in a back room, smoking a cigarette.  Since seeing that, I’ve had this intensely beautiful dream to have a nice, quiet place, with old wooden tables and a view of a cobblestone street, and a place to have a drink and read without being rushed. 

There’s absolutely no reason why I can’t do that other than myself.