Allen Ginsberg's words haunt me: "The trees add shade to shade, lights out in the houses, we'll both be lonely" from A Supermarket in California (1955). I have spoken with numerous people who suffer from loneliness. Some know it, others are fearful of admitting it. In the end, loneliness knows no difference among people. It visits us all. But what is more disconcerting is how people avoid facing it and to what lengths people will invent narratives to keep themselves from the pain which is inevitable. A woman lies to her family about her fiance's drug addiction hoping that he will improve before their wedding day. A man pretends he has friendships only to drink himself to sleep each night with tumblers of whiskey. If people are lonely, as Ginsberg so knowingly recognizes, they are in places where nobody can see them, they hide in dark houses and what are they doing? Counting the hours. Chatting and no one is there...