I was not comfortable in the house, and was not willing to become so. This was a point of honour, a mark of my greatness as a man and citizen.
The chairs were my father’s, his pride and joy – the first objects grown and felled and reformed entirely through the desires of his knotted, gnarled, hands and thumb.
My friends do not return my calls for dinner parties.
I am happy with this, for now I do know that they are not – and must never have truly been – friends of me or mine.