i walked home today. sort of out of myself, de-spirited in a way by perhaps the too many lager bottles over an extended lunch and intensive exchanges. i had to walk home. two kilometers, more or less, it seems. to breathe out. sweat out. the grogginess of my movement. the fogginess of my head.
2 comments:
was it therapeutic? Walking it out works for me sometimes..
walking usually is.
sometimes i can imagine walking miles immersed in deep thought, then waking up as the scary man behind the dumpster in david lynch's mulholland drive. oh the thoughts of death and dying.
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