I prefer running after dark, early in the morning. There's no one to crowd the streets, and the city seems more immediate. More personal. You can run harder when you're alone in the night city, there's no-one to see your face twisted up in concentration. You can fall sprawled, exhausted, in the grass at the entrance to High Park, without censure. You can sit on a bench, notice the harvest moon, feel the blood pounding to apogee in your basilar artery, your body shaking with it. Staring at the sky, you feel the vibrations in the wood, look to the left and notice the drifter for the first time. Bound in a sleeping bag, staring at the moon with you. Motionless.
Who knows how long the moment lasts.
Who knows how long the moment lasts.
hedy:
you're making me insanely jealous that i can't run. well, not insanely so, but...yeah. when it's described so beautifully, i can't help but wish i could.
hedy:
sigh. when are you coming back?