This sheer meaninglessness, is one of the key overarching themes of Sophie’s Choice. It’s a book that seems frequently to yearn towards meaning and yet has strong undercurrents of nihilism.

I stayed in the house by myself. I don’t mind being by myself for long periods of time. I didn’t wear makeup or a bra, since no one would see me. I could have walked outside, but there’s nowhere to walk to, no Walgreens or Starbucks or friendly neighborhood bar with local bands playing or an open mic night. I’m eating through the frozen food in the freezer, Stouffer’s, Trader Joe’s, etc. and drinking the booze, and thank goodness there’s some good booze.

Due to a recent death in the family and through a very specific set of circumstances, a peculiar history if you will, several generations of things including furniture, dishes and glassware, books, family photographs, art created and collected by family members, plus handwritten notes, cards, diaries, etc. have accumulated in one house which I find myself compelled to look through.