The Tailor

 

At the edge of the town

lived a small tailor.

All day long,

he sat by the window,

moving his needle and thread.

Through the glass,

his figure appeared

slightly distorted.

But it was not

the world that was distorted.

The world

was always there,

just as it had always been.

There was simply

a single pane of glass

between them—

thin,

quiet,

almost invisible.

Sometimes,

people do not become alone

within the world itself,

but within that small distance

between themselves

and the world.

He still

had no friends.