So I might write to The Old Man. Everyone's got one. He's out there, and I'm writing down all the debris I pass as I walk backwards into my future. I'm saving the images of the debris, so he and I can laugh and joke about it when I get there. I sweep the debris away, and continue to walk.
The coordinate-system is all fucked, too. There's the up/down & side/side. That I follow. Then there's this arm that reaches up into the up/down and across the side/side. It's not sharp & black or grey & easily readable by false light, like the other two. Its that red-brown of a horse. And it's a strong, muscular, organic bend like a horse's neck turned - to.
When you're contentedly traveling your grey side/side, you'll hit this (with it's color, that can only be seen correctly in sunlight and still is a mystery/beautiful) and suddenly be stretched out flat -- your head in the future & feet in the past - or vice versa. Suddenly, dizzying continuum. I wrestle with this. -- gotta pee.
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The wind sounded like a car coming up a wet driveway.
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