Conversation is stillborn

  • Monday, December 19, 2011
  • 0
Every moment of one's existence one is growing
into more or
into less.
(Norman Mailer)

Conversation is stillborn and I have nothing of interest to say so I leave my home and I run beneath the scrolling clouds into the beautiful light. I know there will never be another day like this and I want to absorb myself into it. I run recklessly and without thought other than that I run for the joy of my surroundings. Amazingly for December I am still running in shorts and sockless in my Five Fingers, I charge through deep and slippery puddles not so much running as skidding. Today I don't care, only this moment in time exists and has any importance, I thrust myself chest first towards and away from myself, the mundane transformed by my movement through the tree's.

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