leisure is a feminist issue.

Leisure is forgetfulness.

To forget what time it is, where you were meant to be, and where — now — you find yourself. Leisure is forgetting what’s for dinner, how to cook, who is waiting, where you left the keys, how to get home from here.

Leisure is not knowing,

better yet not caring, how many eyes you have on you at any given precious, little moment of every unremarkable day.

Leisure is kindness,

given and returned — without distrust, without expectations. Leisure is a stroll, a swim, a walk; a smoke, a swig, a fuck. Leisure is a limbo, lethargically lounging in a temporal bliss, steeped in innocence, in waywardness, in hysteria, in unpredictability of a life that will never –never– repeat itself.

Leisure is elective,

yet urgent. And, more than anything, more than ever,

leisure is a feminist issue.