Dusty skies. Dusty days. Dust under my fingernails…peru, I’ve got peru under my fingernails. And the hot-heat and the long-road, and the asphalt spitting fire and the air with that vmmmmmmmm vmmmmmmmmm vmmmmmmmmm vmmmmmmm vmmmm mantra that I can only hear on those days when the sun is a foot off the ground for hours at a time, (and . . . → Read More: how far? a stream of consciousness thingy
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Walking messes with my perception of distances, or maybe it gives me a more realistic sense of them. I mean, I actually feel every single meter (or foot) that I walk. And that achey knowing shows me that given enough steps, almost anywhere can feel like the middle of nowhere. That’s how I was feeling one day as I . . . → Read More: Daniel My mind does a lot of stuff while I walk…it wanders, it focuses, it languishes, it ferments, it concentrates, it stews, stagnates, jitters, wonders, creates, visualizes, hibernates, buzzes, zooms, and vacillates…it does it all. Sometimes I linger on my past, rolling it out in front of me like a big, misbegotten, patchwork map. I scowl at certain . . . → Read More: Number crunch freak out |
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