Nonsense

The lovely nomads have asked me to join them for a walk of all things.

Living out of ones suitcase is like running a never-ending red light and drawing upon their exhilarations I imagine myself ritually bursting through a myriad of empty intersections with my sandals tumbling through the streets.

With a pencil I block off my calendar and promise to sit beneath the trees in Wales to learn whether the shade they offer differs from the shade in my backyard.

The trouble with comparison is that my perception of shade will likely remain unchanged regardless the tree that shields me.