Run

I was at the beach the other day, when I felt like breaking into a run, ... yes breaking, ... yes into a run, ... yes , yes, dear reader, you're reading quite correctly. Such a thing is indeed possible. And it is quite the normal with me, for often times, I'm overcome by the feeling, nay the necessity, of making a dash of it, or rather a dash for it, and expelling the demons that cling to the pores of my hideous hide, of freeing myself from their clutches and raking loose from suffering their tiring ordeal.

I could run like the wind. Run far and long and strong. A local Forrest Gump, may be.

Running is a lot like a tryst with the wind!

Flashback to mornings in 1988, just before the school-bell tolled the start of another academic-infested day. A young lad in the chapel, before burning candles and saints, praying.

...
...
...

...
...
...

Amongst aiding poor people, and my parents and my grandparents and hungry children, I'd slip in a humble, "Help me run fast" amongst other 'vainities'.











Sometimes, for a few fleeting moments, as I go trotting along, I find that this is (really) my planet, in much the same way, the little prince has a planet and a flower. I had a flower once too, but alas ...

There is such a thing as walking on air, if only for a few seconds at a time. But then, an eternity resides, quite comfortably, in every second.

All photos; photo credit: Jo