It’s easy to lose the momentum of the day if you stop to think about it; the space between going to the bank and waiting for your dealer, for example, can leave a yawning open time without some music to listen to, some TV to watch.
It’s easier to lose the momentum of your person if you stop to think too much; everyone knows that you look at other people more often than a mirror, and a mirror can make you doubt so much about yourself without some hair to comb, some shirt to straighten.
It’s easier still, to lose the momentum of purpose, if you stop to think at all about why you’re doing things, in the grand scheme of things, because everyone who graduated junior college knows about existentialism, about Jesus forsaken on the cross, about market research sneaking into your most intimate beliefs.
It requires the deepest concentration, you see, to get the speed and direction, the bolt into the grey-white skies, the rush of wind as you finally take flight and as you climb atop your climbing.
And when you finally summit the sky, when you equalize yourself between the ground and the evening stars, somewhere in the back of your throat or in the tingle of your body like just before a fever, you feel free…