Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose.
Our coast here is not like your coast. It is wild, untamed, sunny, exotic, quiet. People come here to escape, if only for a week or two, from the hustle and bustle of Mainland life. People dream of living their lives out here, but few actually summon the gumption to do what they say they will do. Traveling along, as I am wont to do for business, I met a man on the North Shore who was unlike any I had ever met before, or will be likely to ever meet again. A person finds that while traveling, she m
Crisp the air feels on my skin as I pick my way through the trees. I leap, Gazelle-like, athletic, over sticks, stones, and patches of mud as if the trail were made for me: indeed, it was made for me, seventy-two years ago it was hewn from forested hillsides by those men fortunate enough to have, for once, benefited from government programming.
A man smiles broadly at me when we pass on the trail. "How are you?" he asks genially.
"Good!" I reply, and for once, it's not an idle phrase. His concern for my well-being has lit up my face with a smile; I seldom smile while running.
"It's nice to see you!" he says, still smiling as if we had k
Dreams Running Parallel II by holayutasan, literature
Literature
Dreams Running Parallel II
Simcha dropped his bag just inside the door and sank into a chair beside the kitchen table, resting his head on his arms. The sky descended into night around him as he contemplated his situation. Finally, when he could not wait any longer, he made a sparse supper to tide him over until morning. He had found that he was scarcely hungry since the ordeal with the negotiations had started. Just as he was becoming sick of the darkness and went to switch on his lamp, a hasty knock came from the door. "Just a second," Simcha told the lamp as he switched it on.
The knocking came again as he was going to open the door, but when Simcha finally sw
Dreams Running Parallel I by holayutasan, literature
Literature
Dreams Running Parallel I
He was tempted to just pitch himself off of the raised concrete walkway right then add there. It was such an impossible situation he could barely believe it was finally coming to fruition.
Though the sun was shining amiably and he was surrounded by supporters, he felt cold and alone. The sparkling buildings of the White City left far behind, they now wove their way through the strange mix of old and new, the smell of strife hanging strong in the air. They passed a dilapidated old house with glassless windows, and as he looked over his shoulder he saw a sad family just going to breakfast.
As they reached the conference hall, electricity s