I like trading, not communism

I never see my roommate. He is always busy. I am always busy when he’s not busy. We’re so metropolitan, you know.
We’re looking for a new apartment, one with more space. I wonder why space is important though; neither of us has time to enjoy it. In fact, I’d be fine in a hovel.

There’s a place deep inside of me that longs for the simple life- for fresh eggs, the overwhelming smell of grass, the excitement that comes with the passing of a car- the luxury of forgetting that everyone else exists- for fresh produce, for sunburns and tired limbs. A part of me would love to have filthy children who know a ripe tomato when they see one, a house with ancient floorboards, the sanctity of empty space and a sky full of stars, but I know that I would quickly tire of such a life. I’m destined to live- just enough- for The City, to live just enough for the weekend.

Tonight, I traded my roommate two ripe bananas for two unripe bananas. Tomorrow I’m going to make banana nut muffins- my favorite! I hope that one day, my children will also like banana nut muffins. If they don’t, I’ll trade them for other children. Trading is wonderful.