Spaces

Have I left them? Do they need filling?

Why do we have some strange compulsion to fill a space every time we see one?

Surely we haver to yearn for a point where the need to fill spaces leaves us.

Its situational, I get it.

In a book isn’t leaving space some sort of waste of a chance, was of some portion of a tree. Ha ha.

Maybe the same in other parts of life, we don’t want to feel like we are wasting anything; time, words, moments, space.

Maybe one or the other is not a waste at all.