Quite friendly, the village, with chats in the street. “How are you?” “I saw you selling your webpaper. Nice. Very nice.”
Strangers see me exit my front door, and say kind words in a casual tone. But I don’t know if their eyes are blue, their skins brown. What they are wearing. I cannot put my hand on their shoulder and say, “Thank you.” All that has to be imagined. And most of it can’t.
It is a cool village. No sunshine, no shady trees. No bench in the park with bums drinking beer from a can. No leaves falling.
Not really a village. Just a virtual one.
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