The Man of Leisure has time on his hands. Drifting through his days, he plucks thoughts from the ether. Perhaps he’ll make himself a sandwich, or leaf through last week’s newspaper.
The man of leisure gazes out the window. He contemplates the world around him. He tracks flight paths and recognises the sound of the postman’s bike. He may notice the wind direction, the chatter of sparrows in his fig tree, or the elegance of the autumn leaf’s spiral to the ground. A neighbour will mow their lawn, and the man of leisure will find three more answers to the Sunday crossword.
The man of leisure sits in an enormous theatre; he is the only audience member. The acts enter and exit the stage. Some delight and some disgust him, some make him laugh and others make him weep. The man of leisure is gazing out his window. Perhaps he should do his washing.
