(Pic by Mom)
I have run out of things to write about, again. I could offer an opinion, as I did yesterday, but my heart's not in it. There are few stories left to tell. The boy is happy and trucking right along, full of energy in a way that his dad is no longer. It does feel like the passing off of the baton in a relay race. To where, no one knows: the implacable future. Time, the enduring, insatiable beast.
If a second passes in the forest and there is no clock there to count it...
See? I don't have the headspace any more to tell stories. I am running in blind circles - twice upon a time - where there is only darkness and the sound of feet shuffling.
And that was just my weekend.
(Ibid)
(Ibid)
(Post-serve pic by Rhys - Over the line, Smoky!)
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