A world transformed - as if innocence regained by the cover of snow and trackless stretch of land. We are artist, runners - each step a stroke of motion left behind and a canvas of miles ahead. We are eager to explore. Running opens the world - snow is simply shades of what a season offers - flakes of white cold against the running grounds. Yet still we run. The world is always waiting.
Peace,
Eric
No comments:
Post a Comment