Weekly state: hasty.

I jump from one warm underground place to another, escaping the crisp cold winter air in between.

I indulge, slurping fermented juices that make me merry and talking about life. Hardly looking around, I try to slow down but I am hasty. A crawl of some kind this was supposed to be, in the end it was a run. Absence makes the hard grow fonder but what if there is just hours to rest from it?

Carpe diem, people have put on the walls as stickers. I am trying, but it remains hard. I have previously struggled with the concepts of past and future, wondering where this magical place of inbetweenness is. I haven’t found it yet.

So I continue to haste, jolly nonetheless. Because running can be a way to slow down.