Holding a jug of water, a book in the pit, fingertips balancing my bike and walking forward are the assigned positions. The head is mostly looking straightforward but, at night it is pointed downwards. I’m assuming this is the maximum amount of energy that my body can push forth after 8 o’clock pm. The street I live on has 2 friendly outdoor cats. They roam around from time to time and one of them has a black collar with a cross bone pattern on it. The cats tail at the end is cricked forward like a floppy dog ear. I pat her sometimes when she rolls around on my driveway.
In a matter of a paragraph and surveying what it means to be alone I’ve concluded that the closest things to me right now are my observations and that I’m really just walking on by and taking the world in. It’s a walk that is not preferable to all but necessary for others. A walk that doesn’t have to physically include anyone. It’s been strange though, I am self sufficient. It’s tenderly awkward like a weird tale.