After an unexpected enthusiastic stun during a time of extreme sentiment, Laing left her local England and took her messed up heart to New York, "that packed island of rock, cement and glass". The profound sensation of depression that she encountered for quite a while there made her feeble.
. Amazingly, it was an abnormal greeting to carry on with life. Truth be told, her decision to venture out from home and meander into an unfamiliar city is in itself a rich allegory for the dumbfounding idea of dejection.
Driven by equivalent amounts of uneasiness and bewilderment, nature is fit for transforming one into a deliberately transient and a singular being, yet some way or another
it is an imperative lab of self-disclosure. She tracked down that the gap of depression can "push one to consider probably the greatest inquiries concerning being alive."