When he smelled the ocean he was disappointed. He had thought it was further away, though it was a trick of wind and atmospheric conditions that he could smell it that far inland, and the scent lasted for only an instant. In fact it was still quite way off, he still had some time, but it was close. He could slow down and milk every mile as much as the family and friends he traveled with would let him. He supposed he might veer off to the north or south. They had veered one way or another before, of course, but always as a group, and if he did it now on his own he would most certainly be leaving people behind, and he couldn’t bear that. He wondered if he might simply turn around and go back. If it were possible to do that would he meet the same people moving in the other direction? No, it was too fanciful a notion. He further supposed he might just stop. Just stay right here as if suspended, and let the rest go on without him. That struck him as intolerably lonely, perhaps even cowardly. He decided whatever direction he tried to turn would eventually lead him to an ocean, and if he tried to stay there the earth over time would crumble away, and the ocean would come to him. So he smiled and strapped on his helmet, put on his favorite tunes, kicked the bike into gear and into motion, coasting for the most part, eventually to glide up to the wide sandy beach and blue water and brilliant sunset on the horizon and the journey’s end.
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BTW: The photo art and prose included in any given post are separate creations and rarely have anything to do with each other. Duality and such …
All my life I have had to learn to do things differently. To see the world differently.