Sunday night arrives, how quickly it sneaks into your system. You check your work email and see it spilling over into every crevice of the week ahead. Your poor body falls apart from the alcohol that was supposed to mend it. You know you are going about this in all the wrong ways. The days and weeks pile up ahead of you and you haven't the time to think of what they mean.
He books tickets to the African hot zone, to the ends of the Earth, the terrifying adventures tug at your seams and you wonder at the choices you've made. Could you not also have dived into the great unknown? Should you not also be living a life that involves more than ten hours in front of a computer screen and five hours of heavy sleep in a tragic loop? The homeless man on St Marks on Friday said he knew enough friends along the way to make it to Boulder, if he wanted. You thought we can make it to California, if we try, and rolled him an extra cigarette.
The pieces of the puzzle make themselves clear.
You decide when you are ready to put them together.
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