autopsychography

I walked into a bookstore (next to a square named after a saint) in a city to the west of where I am now.

Touching the spines of books in the philosophy section, I turned away momentarily and found myself facing a “Book of Disquietude”.

Strange word.

Disquiet: a feeling of mild anxiety about possible developments, a sense of worried unease.

A smile considered how frequently I felt this way.