……….That weird sense of running in sand — of never really having a firm foothold but just moving anyway, letting the ground give underneath you and not fuck with your pace.
I don’t really know what idea I’m circling around here other than I guess things have stagnated a bit. I went from living on three continents in three years to accidentally anchoring myself within a twenty mile radius of where I grew up, and it’s not that I’m unhappy with where I am (I’m not), but that sense of momentum is gone. That sense of being able to do literally anything any time without any real justification is receding into some quiet space we save for vacation planning and Groupon deals, and maybe I’m in mourning.
……..
Excerpted. These are the perfect words for where I am- stuck in a tiny town, with tales of India and the Galapagos and the Yucatan and the Rocky Mountains carefully folded up and placed in the bottom drawer, like a pair of favorite jeans that don’t fit well anymore.
