No matter, the road is life.
Right here right now I can go anywhere. Be anyone.
Everything looks so new in the soft apricot glow of the early morning light. The clean washed out blue of the endless watercolour sky. The mouthwateringly fresh greens of the trees and hedges, every possible shade from almost yellow to almost black.
Sunlight trickles through the leaves above and dapples the path ahead. The air is soft and lazy-still but for the gentlest and most welcome kiss of breeze on my skin.
There is only me in this moment. Everything there has ever been from then to now has been in anticipation of this. An entire universe, born of nothing an infinity ago for the express purpose of these - are they minutes? are they hours?
I am lulled by the hypnotic rhythm of my legs. The only sounds is the ticking of the wheels as they turn and the life of the landscape around me. The road slides past beneath me. She loves me; she loves me not. She loves me; she loves me not. Exhaustion. Elation.
The path is in turn smooth and rough - a slash of asphalt in the green, straight and solid and true in some places, gradually being reclaimed by the encroaching wild in others.
My mind is emptied of all conscious thoughts but one. Consistent. Insistent. Persistent.
My fucking arse is KILLING me.
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