When I was young I used to dream of running away and joining the circus. Read the rest of this entry »
The sun was brilliant, and yet the air was still crisp and cold enough to show my breath as I pedaled slowly along the asphalt path. In your face, the wind chills and bites. Not harshly enough, and I laugh and shiver until I turn and the warm sun on my back teases of warmer days yet to come.
The pond I circle is frozen and the geese walk atop the ice, and bask in the warmth. How is that possible I wonder, but the world is full of wonders. Perhaps each day is one.
How do we spend our days, I ponder? Each day is twenty-four hours for every man, fourteen hundred forty minutes, or eighty-six thousand four hundred seconds so egalitarianly provided to all.
Once through this, how will I spend mine, this precious coin that runs through my fingers, tic, tic, tic never to be found or sold again. I don’t really know, just yet. But I think things are going to change.