Here I sit, soaking in Miles Davis’ Kind of Blue and watching the rush hour traffic form outside my window. When the leaves fall and the trees are but skeletons, I can see through to the Turnpike that runs perpendicular to my street, and the white lights move towards me and the red lights move away from me. Ants scurry to an ant hill somewhere that’s just outside my peripheral vision. The sky is getting blacker, and if I focus hard enough I believe, truly, I can pinpoint the moments when the color of the sky is dyed a deeper hue.
Time moves more slowly on certain days than on others. I think it’s time to get dressed and go outside and contribute to society. I’m ready to move.
