I confess I've never cared for the wind. Layers of liquid atmosphere chasing temperature differentials, it's more likely to dessicate my plants or make my skin crack than blow a Mister Dark into town. At least the latter might shake things up a bit.
I hide, usually, and listen to the roof creak. If I must go out, the lithium blasphemy that is an e-bike makes things a bit easier. I could take the car, but then what am I? A bit of meat in a metal cocoon. No better than a Dalek, really. Our choice of transportation is born of necessity, but it does define us. Sometimes I aspire to the state of a pure walker, secure in the knowledge that my sore feet could take me anywhere I truly want to go.
But the wind, oh, the wind. Chapped lips and burned skin, dust in the eyes.
I've passed by the moon door many times, but this is the first time I've stopped in. Hello, everyone. I'll try not to bore you.
"Our choice of transportation is born of necessity, but it does define us."
I have been thinking a lot about "what define us". How much we bear the weight of titles, labels, a lot of them self-assigned in the past, and carried forever.
(Just a fleeting mind movement, please ignore)