Sunday, 8 January 2012
Oh no... it seems it has only taken six days for me to fall behind. So today, I'm going to make up for it. With extra pictures. Lots of extra pictures.
Today I felt like I was running through a Tim Burton film. Or an Edgar Allan Poe poem. I stepped out into the grainy Sunday mist and tackled the streets until I reached Stephen's Green. The cold air streamed over my bare arms as I cut through the thick wind. The hair on my arms raised as I looped around the green once, twice, thrice, and again. They remained standing on edge with every turn, and I realized the trees around me, basking in the slate grey canvas behind them, were reaching out their weathered, arthritic fingers toward me as I raced past. They groped at my back and twisted their fingers in the air. I kept moving, daunted by the melancholy of it all. It exhilarated and awakened me, to have my haunted companions tickling winter sky.
..but I do love disappearing in the romance of it, as I push my body into another mile of exhaustion. There's no high quite like it.