What's left ?
What's left is what has always been left.
The promised sex without guilt. Casual, easy, without commitments. Just as it is. It will never be.
And what else ?
Life. Easy. Without having to whore oneself for some unnecessary bull-shit money because wife wants something like a washing machine. Just creating. Just being. I have part of it now in my exile in that tree-lined campus. A house, where I have just furniture enough for one room. Not even that. I just have a bed. The table and chair that is there in my bedroom belongs to the company that has forgotten that it is there.