This is real life.

Yep. This is it.

Look around you – away from this blasted screen.

All that stuff? Real.

If you run your hand over it, you can feel the texture of its surface. Real.

Right now? This is it. This is your life.

This may all seem blatantly obvious to you, in which case you’ve probably stopped reading. For whatever reason, however, when I stop to consider that this is real life, it is almost always a revelation.

Have I always been so disconnected?

Certainly as far back as I can remember I’ve spent most of my time more in my thoughts than my body.

Lost in a book or a movie or a song or an idea. Full of hope, worry, regret or nostalgia. Seeing what I think is in front of me rather than what is.

And when I stop, when I stop like have right now, when I make an effort to cease the babble in my head and see this moment – this moment which is the essence of what this life actually is – when I do that, everything tends to appear a liitle absurd.

But again, perhaps that’s just me.

Whatever the case, this I know: in a moment I’ll stop writing and you’ll stop reading. I will get up from this park bench and go buy some fish. I haven’t the foggiest what you’ll do next.

And for both of us, this will still be real life.