I look at Ernest Hemingway and wonder what we have in common? I am certain that in addition to adventures I have never sought he did more chores around the house.
We did have one thing in common. We write. I will have to ignore for a while his fame and fortune. Until I watched a movie depicting Hemingway writing standing up, I had also thought we shared the commonality of any writer, to sit in a chair.
If he was an exception to this, then I take pleasure in knowing we both missed something. I will most likely depart this life without ever having hunted wild game or fished for giant fish. Hemingway, on the other hand, may have missed an even greater pleasure, writing from a chair.