every edge loves the abyss for what it offers - and our skin too is pulled by the same desire, made of light, and air, and the dust of earth, we are form only at the edge of our identity. A continuation of who we are is always pressed against us.
~
My love for running is largely a matter of seeing my own continuation through the means of motion, it's as if I remain still at center and the world revolves in a scenery of new becoming - and who's to say that this isn't so?
Peace,
Eric
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