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Walking around Oxford, my hometown, I used to see Radiohead frontman Thom Yorke from time to time. He always looked miserable.
At Boots the Chemist? Miserable.
At the Ashmolean Museum? Miserable.
Having a picnic with his family? Miserable.
Walking down North Parade? Miserable.
It was only years later that I realized he was miserable because I was looking at him, and there must have been hundreds of other people who were doing the same.
Thom Yorke wasn’t the problem. I was the problem.
Sorry, Thom Yorke.
Photo by Jen S, released under a CC license.
