Nearly every sundown a certain person, you perhaps, comes running down the hall shouting “Endings endings! It’s almost over!” and I, well, I am left standing stock still hoping it’ll all miss me. But I understand now, as before, that you will not, cannot avoid me. This corridor is too wide, its waxed stone floor too bright. I might as well be incandescent, shining in it – an interrogation room crammed with honesty. So we will sit down at this glinting table, each of us pulling back a matched brushed steel chair waiting for just this moment, and we will do what we have in fact been doing countless hours and days before, recounting moments in memoriam, playing out farewells, our laughter cued to mourning by this inevitable script, its ink indelible. Still, standing here I hold my place, hoping we miss each other this one moment, hoping we disregard this illusory quartzite oscillation. That you and I will meet in silence, smiling believers who pass one another in the faith. Surely we will meet again.
Ride report
in: 14'C wind 20 SE
out: 18'C wind 25 ESE (rain)
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