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UPDATE: My focus on "what is real" is not created within the last week. This very diary revealed to me that I was totally matra'ing about the "real" 1+ month ago in the Holy Land of Bahama. Apparently, the naivity only lies in the simplicity of the concept, and not my immediate reliance. The experiential foods sorta ruined my tudes, I'm thinking. Now it becomes a matter of will. Out the door I went, to the usually walking zone. My park, where I've spent so much time and growth in 2006. Today, the park held no growth for me. I veered away into the neighborhoods and made a maze of the streets. Down overgrown alleys, and returning the same direction on the next named street. For the duration I gripped tensely a large bouquet of flowering blossoms that had fallen from their home. The density of humanity holders and the touches of personal decisions (manicured, not manicured, glass lawn art, plant choices) was much more of a comfort today than the same old city ordained parkness.
Sidewalks undulated in sharp brokenness causing me to half trip upwards of 3 times. Tightly I gripped the bouquet, bigger than my fist. Robin Redbreast landed on bushes 20 feet ahead that held berries for feasting. My rapidly arriving large frame sparked the spookable bird to flee. Tightly I gripped the bouquet, bigger than my fist. Many dogs barked at me. The bouquet now lays on the bad couch awkwardly falling apart and starting to wilt. "It is a quiet time," said Ritchey. |
