I’ve been taking notes on solitude/aloneness/and loneliness over the last several months. There is a lot more where this came from, and maybe you will get to read that, too. i. This is the scene—my future bedroom is the choir balcony in a completely open 2,000 sq ft one-room church house built in 1897. Roughly six feet from my back door begins a cemetery even older than the church with gravestones dating back to the early 1800s. No rooms, wide open space, complete silence, the bones of the dead stewing beneath my feet.
As a single homeowner trying to renovate since 2007, I can confirm that no one does this alone. Your church is looking like it’s making good progress on ig. Call me when you want to marry a good looking, lone wolf, trans masc carpenter instead of some measly heterosexual dude.
As a single homeowner trying to renovate since 2007, I can confirm that no one does this alone. Your church is looking like it’s making good progress on ig. Call me when you want to marry a good looking, lone wolf, trans masc carpenter instead of some measly heterosexual dude.