Saturday, October 26, 2019

Look. Look some more.

That's the reason for walking.  Seeing things at eye level.  Sometimes stooping is required.  Pretend you are a pretzel but stop short of pain.  When I walk, I pass into and through light.  Not a shabby place to be.  Much like cooking; always like writing a line or two.  Here's the irony, I go outside to be inside.

1 comment:

  1. Two vacations ago, no carts rolled down the aisle, the altitude a wren in the buckweed, not to be missed. The silly plans we made got to be so wooden, now in Cincinnati.