If you have ever been a lonely child, part of you stays her forever. A void opens up inside you when you are very small and then mocks you all your life for being unable to fill it. No number of friends or strength of love can fill it; the well is bottomless. In The Lonely City, Olivia Laing describes her own loneliness as “an infant’s wail: I don’t want to be alone. I want someone to want me. I’m lonely. I’m scared.” When I am confronted with even a few hours alone, my own infant starts crying, echoing up from the depths of me: We’re still here! I was right! There is something wrong with us!