Confession – I wish I had a commute

When I was in boarding school, I would have to take the train in to London every other month or so. Whether I was flitting off to find my folks in some far off land or begging a room from a friend that lived there, I would sit on the train, stare out the window and read. I watched commuters, half asleep in their suits and overcoats, typing away on massive laptops or scribbling in spiral bound notebooks and think, “That’ll be me one day.”

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