Bike ride, uncertainty.
Wobble, unsteady beside shining cars, the metal bright and hot in the afternoon sun.
Road is pocked, bits dug-out here and there, from the winter; too much rain, snow and ice.
I worry about worry.
Circuitous concern that doesn’t do anyone any good – least of all me;
I read about Stephen King last night. His evening constitutional. Maine backwater. Knocked off the road by intoxicated repeat offender who was battling with Rottweiler, the bus he was driving all over the road.
It makes you wonder how some people manage to get out of bed in the morning, how they manage to travel down the motorway; suppressing the bad, negating the unimaginable. Just focus. Focus. Control your thought.
Distraction is the best medicine.
It works every time; or, at least until you can’t be distracted, torn away from the pain.
It is all about letting-go.
Breaking-away. Letting the bonds of me and you stretch, dissemble.
Have faith that fate is beyond imagining.