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Dusty shaman

Modifié le : 2019/08/04

There is a time to look sim­ply at things, with­out judg­ment and fury. There is time to rest. The days may seem motion­less as if we were locked in a traf­fic jam. It does­n’t mat­ter if you zigzag, change lanes to move faster, you end up sta­tis­ti­cal­ly arriv­ing at the same time at the same place. Our hours can smell like dust. It’s a good thing we have the lux­u­ry of car­ing about it.

After work­ing this morn­ing to make sure that I was­n’t undu­ly late (because of the dust on the projects, the cus­tomers don’t like it too much), I lay down, my eyes imme­di­ate­ly caught on this after­noon light that is already gone. I got up sev­er­al times, drank, ate fruit, went back to bed, wan­der­ing the Inter­net, read with my tablet, talked to a friend, fell asleep, woke up. Noth­ing worth­while, just dust that feels good.

What should we do now ? Every­thing and noth­ing. For a few weeks, my thoughts, words, and actions have been strange­ly play­ing a bal­anc­ing act like a magi­cian and a dream­er. I’m becom­ing a shaman.

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