The Subtle Art of Listening to Your Natural Cycles

It felt good showing up for myself every day. I was making more money on Medium than ever. And I had a fancy streak to brag about and impress people with. I could tell because my writing felt…

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Stray Cats In My Street

My street is short. Not sure if it is over one hundred meters. A lot of things are going on.

Living in a suburban area is fun. My house got a number 11 and it is last in the street.

I like living here. I know all neighbors, their stories, what they do for a living, and all their pets.

I like pets. I used to have two cats for almost twenty years. Two sisters. They never left the apartment besides regular veterinary checks and moving twice.

I am not sure about the exact number, but I think that every house got at least two animals. Most of them are cats and dogs. At least I did not notice snakes, monkeys, or other exotic species.

I am a cat person. I like dogs but cats got personalities similar to mine. Today I gave zero fucks.

During sunny days, cats are outside minding their business and playing as stray cats. They are not.

If they were people, probably music choices would be Soundgarden, Smashing Pumpkins, and probably Nirvana. Not Sex Pistols, as they are too rude and explicit, not any new age. Pink Floyd, maybe but not the first four or five albums.

They are smart. Bach’s Goldberg Variation probably would be on the daily menu. I am not sure.

They move lazily over the street; we got almost no traffic.

Pretending to be stray cats and living in nice and warm houses cats remind me of a particular kind of people.

The ones who are full of money, sipping expensive cocktails, debating about the piece in the world, and commenting on politics from a philosophical point of view.

My stray cats.

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