One of those heavy, liquid evenings when all air just stands still. Water turns into a peculiar syrup and the sunlight penetrates every part, every blade of grass (and so on). It's as if the world has just had enough of spinning and without us noticing decided to stop, even if only for a few minutes. Then, silently it all starts up again and we move, noiselessly through the early evening and on into space and towards tomorrow. So after our second (exhausting) walk of the weekend we reflect on the wonderful weakness of being nothing in particular and everything; all at the same time.
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