Interlude
I click through the pictures from yesterday, from the New York marathon, and I discover something that somehow feels almost significant. The first runners hardly touch the ground, they seem to hover inches over the ground, light and graceful, like dancers. Then the further behind the runners, the more of them are touching the ground, one foot, both, still in motion but no longer flying low. At the far back they never leave Terra Firma, not dragging their feet, no, never that, but slowed down as gravity ties them to the grey asphalt. It is like my childhood, when I would dream that my feet did not touch the ground and I would fly.