the walk home

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.


Willow said...

was it therapeutic? Walking it out works for me sometimes..

arcibaldo said...

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.