Green, and the Lack Thereof
I have never been a slave to money.
I am a content person by most accounts. I’ve never chased fancy cars, clothing, jewelry. Never been overly fond of debt.
I do have one particular sickness: books.
An opportunity has arisen, in which the personal library of a man I greatly admired is being offered up.
As I’ve never been a slave to, desire for, or obsessed over the accumulation of greenbacks, this is soul-crushingly painful.
Especially considering I’ve a roof still in need of mending.
Almost 50… Would’ve been nice had this whole writing thing panned out differently. But it is what it is. Life is short and I already have amassed more than I would ever need.
But the sickness is there. Gnawing. Hungrily wanting fed.
I am reminded of this, which I could not afford at the time and still have nightmares about:
C’est la vie