Aug 2017
I like going up to 9th level of the parking deck across from where I live.
I always take the stairs so my blood is buzzing slightly at the top.
My favorite is when it’s windy; the wind mixes up the sounds and smells and dirt below and sends it far away, cleansing the air.
I like looking down at the road that I walk on everyday, with the perspective of a bird, rather than a person.
Watching from above, far enough away that I can no longer hear the people's footfalls, mindless chatter, raucous laughter, see their expressions, their clothing brands, their incessant cell phones.
Watching them take infinitesimal steps across the street or cars take a corner too sharply just to save half a second reminds me that I too am an ant.
Going nowhere.
Doing nothing of importance.
Fluttering from one place to another with the weight of a jury on my shoulders. Believing that my footsteps echo across the world, shaking the ground beneath everyone's feet to cause earthquakes, when in fact, they are almost inaudible.
I know it's time to go when the lights turn on, reminding me that I can only stay removed from society for a short while. Thoreau returned to civilization, the Pevensies left Narnia, Caesar went back to Rome.
A butterfly lay dead in the stairwell as I hurried down. I wondered how it had gotten stuck inside and how long it had flapped in anguish before it fell from the air to rest on the ground until the wind blew it away.
I always take the stairs so my blood is buzzing slightly at the top.
My favorite is when it’s windy; the wind mixes up the sounds and smells and dirt below and sends it far away, cleansing the air.
I like looking down at the road that I walk on everyday, with the perspective of a bird, rather than a person.
Watching from above, far enough away that I can no longer hear the people's footfalls, mindless chatter, raucous laughter, see their expressions, their clothing brands, their incessant cell phones.
Watching them take infinitesimal steps across the street or cars take a corner too sharply just to save half a second reminds me that I too am an ant.
Going nowhere.
Doing nothing of importance.
Fluttering from one place to another with the weight of a jury on my shoulders. Believing that my footsteps echo across the world, shaking the ground beneath everyone's feet to cause earthquakes, when in fact, they are almost inaudible.
I know it's time to go when the lights turn on, reminding me that I can only stay removed from society for a short while. Thoreau returned to civilization, the Pevensies left Narnia, Caesar went back to Rome.
A butterfly lay dead in the stairwell as I hurried down. I wondered how it had gotten stuck inside and how long it had flapped in anguish before it fell from the air to rest on the ground until the wind blew it away.
