Tuesday, July 7, 2009


I'm walking to my apartment, headache knocking at my temples, stomach clenched in discontent, the usually soothing breeze pushing oppressively on my body. Returning to my apartment means the start of many hours of work. I replay my mental to do list as if this will somehow make me feel better, or give me some sense of control, or perhaps just to dwell. As I approach my apartment and reach for my keys I see a group of three young girls in the parking lot across from my building. They are spinning in circles, twirling like whirligigs in the warm evening wind, completely consumed in their moment together. Given my brooding state, it seems so surreal - a happiness oasis forever just beyond my next step. Fortunately it's not an oasis at all, and the message is not lost on me. 

Almost an hour later, my dancing muses still grace the pavement below my window with primitive pirouettes. Dwelling in their movement, their laughter, their friendship, and their floating skirts. Was there ever a more worthy thing to dwell upon?

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