Monday, April 25, 2005

Took a vacation, my palate got clean.

And so he went riding again. Through fields and farms, and forsythia fireworks. But this time, he could be by the water and feel only its restorative and curative powers. Never once thinking of drowning.

This time, he could stand at the edges of the cliffs and suck in his breath at the sprawling vistas spread out before him. Never once thinking of falling. Or jumping.

And this time, when the drenching rains fell, he could revel in their soaking. Knowing that he’d soon be dry again, and that when he was, he’d be thankful for having been wet.


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