The further away from the human race I am the better I feel. Even though I write about the human race, the further away from them I am the better I feel. Two inches is great. Two miles is great. Two thousand miles is beautiful. As long as I’m able to eat. They feed me because I feed them. I don’t like to be near them. When somebody even so much as brushes against me with an elbow in a crowd I react. I do not like the human race. I don’t like their heads. I don’t like their faces. I don’t like their feet. I don’t like their conversations. I don’t like their hairdos. I don’t like their automobiles. I don’t like their dogs or their cats or their roses.

Photo by Mark Hanauer, 1981