He had spent his days since returning commuting by train to various coffee shops downtown. He still lived in the same loft apartment; he figured he wouldn't find much better without spending considerably more anyway. His needs hadn't changed, so he didn't see the point in spending any of his newfound funds on extravagances; it was the freedom that he enjoyed. Reading, writing some, thinking, watching YouTube and Netflix. (The new TV wasn't extravagant.) His was a solitary life, just as it had been for the last ten years, and he still didn't mind. There was enough noise always around him in the city; he didn't need to add to it.
But this encounter on the train, it wouldn't leave him. He was able to forget it for a time that evening while he watched TV, and he fell asleep on his couch as usual, but as soon as he woke up the next morning it was right there in the front of his mind.
"The world breaks everyone."
What had happened to the poet? Surely he was never that well off to begin with; he was a poet after all. But he was successful by those standards. After all, one is not invited to speak at universities without a fair amount of professional clout.