Feb 19 2009
∞
8 ways
It feels like weeks. My feet, the toes, between and around them, my legs and hips, arms, chest, neck: They’re all sore.
When you check…just look down at the toe…rub it. It’s all that walking that makes a journey.
I can’t write much today. It hurts too much to even think.
Elma sent me a message - a text directly to my brain - “You’ll get used to it. Even torture becomes tolerable. We all become accustomed. Stop. Burr. Stop.”
I think I’ll rest until dawn.
