A café is a place: it's a bit noisy, but not raucous; there are a lot of people, but they're independent of each other; it has a strong smell of modern society, but you know with certainty that you won't be disturbed; it offers you a chance to observe: you can see many people, but you know you don't need to connect with them. It's a delicate balance between private and public space: more than the former, it connects you with many people similar to you, bringing their daily lives and social patterns to you; more than the latter, it ensures closure and privacy, and it's comforting to know that within a foot of you is your territory, and that others will acquiesce to avoid it without you having to say anything about it. There was a time when I was on a quiet retreat at home and had little contact with anyone. I slept in until close to noon, got up and ate a brunch, and in the afternoon I concentrated on reading and writing until evening, when I went out and hurried through the streets to the supermarkets and restaurants to buy food and return. The setting sun casts its rays behind me, and next to me are the tired-looking office workers, carrying briefcases or backpacks, passing by in twos and threes. There are times when I look at the crowd of people walking in a hurry, and it suddenly occurs to me that another day has passed, leaving almost no trace or feeling. The sun rises, the moon sets, and the next day is the same as today, so the day repeats itself day after day. What kind of stories are behind all these people coming and going around you? What possibilities were missed in the day that just ended? If you could do it all over again, would it turn out differently? It was a strange feeling. You're walking alone, alive, thinking, and suddenly you realize that the whole world is quiet around you, orderly and well-organized. You are like a stripped down individual, so small that you can be ignored in front of the world. The only thing that connects you to other people are the rules: you pay money, exchange food, and then you're left unattached, a customer without a name or a face. The world doesn't seem the same without you, and you run but never catch up with it - it's just there, in the same pattern as always, and you find yourself unable to fit in.