The image in the last month is running, running, running. Running through a sunny meadow, running through a sunlight speckled forest, running through foreign urban streets, but then feeling my feet sticking, the feeling of getting bogged down. Feet getting stuck with the beauty of it all. More and more effort needed to pull my feet out of the miracle of the physical world, the manifest world, the fake world.

I love burritos, I love sushi, I love sunlight, I love air, I love warmth, I love who I love, I love fabric; suddenly the separation between my skin and the world is not so obscure. I am here. I am being. I am alive.

That's OK, I need to go through these feelings, just to make sure. I think it helps having this "public" expression. It's a similar thing as going to visit Tucson because that's what I told everyone I was going to do. Now it's a matter of credibility, of crying wolf. Credibility still counts for something, doesn't it?