-My steps make their way through the melting snow. It’s almost gone. Crazy how in the same week it could snow about a foot and a half and then melt all away. My breath no longer freezes before me and and I start sweating as I make my way to that building where I spent most of my day. With each step I take on my own, when my thoughts start to flare, my decisions revisit me and they become more fixed, more concrete. I see a path opening before me and it seems interesting. Not necessarily Kerouac or Rimbaud, but my own trajectory, through the journey of me. I feel good about this. I feel good about being a journeyman, a traveller. I want to go to Mexico next. I think I’ll only be here for six months. It’s not bad but I feel this time is precious and I don’t want to deplete it here, six thousand miles from the paths of my previous manifestations. I want to dig further into the roots of myself, into the roots of my past.
I find a certain freedom as I find myself moving, no longer stumbling through the day.
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