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Miss Brill lives frugally, alone in a small room, making a small living by teaching English and reading the newspaper aloud to an invalid gentleman four afternoons a week. She seems happy with her place even though her daily activities are
dull by most standards and her pleasures are small ones: Her well-worn fur delights her, and an almond in the Sunday honey-cake is cause for celebration.
Because she lives on the outskirts of life in her small French town, Miss Brill regards her solitary Sundays in the park as the highlight of her week. Here, watching the people who
come and go and eavesdropping on their conversations, she feels a connection with her fellow human beings. The smallest details about them excite her interest.
She comes to feel herself one of them, an actor in life’s drama. So caught up does she become in the sudden revelation that all the world’s a stage and that she, like everyone else, has a part to play, that she has a mystical experience. In her mind, she merges with the other players, and “it seemed to Miss Brill that in another moment all of them, all the whole company, would begin singing” (10).
All of us at one time or another feels isolated and alone. But that doesn't mean we can't be happy in that loneliness. How often do we fantasize about what life is like in someone's conversation on the subway, bus, or in a restaurant? How often do we fantasize about what life would be like living with that good looking person we just glimpsed at for a moment?
Everyone understands what it is to be alone and when you reach a certain age, understand what loss of family and friends mean. We all to some extent think our lives are less fortunate than someone else, and the slightest thing we like in life "is cause for celebration." Also, we may think we are well-liked and loved but in the end, what if that was merely an illusion and people thought of us as "Mr. or Ms.
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