From The Runner's Path
"Sprained head, here I come."
Just starting to write this hurts...
It appears that I'm running toward something that looks a lot like a concrete wall.
I know that I can make a choice between options of avoidance.
They are all variations of stopping and changing direction, and their combinations thereof.
As long as I remain focused on the solid mass which is the assembly of aggregate pebbles, ground limestone mortar, and a heavy modicum of reinforcing steel bars - there's a headache - dead ahead.
One dimensional focus.
One dimensional focus.
Point taken.
But then, I hook a left:
But then, I hook a left:
Suddenly I am at the mercy of 2-dimensional thinking.
Length. Times. Width.
The length of the wall, and how far I have to go to regain my heading becomes a significant variable - in minutes.
Ther's a MULTIVERSE out there!
Or, I could just ignore the wall. In an alternate reality it does not even exist. Runners run through it on a regular basis. Writers call it a "block" and bombard it with words. A mime would just create a door.
Actually, now that I think about it, this is a picture looking back at the wall I just climbed over.
9,310 we don't need no thought control steps.
Actually, now that I think about it, this is a picture looking back at the wall I just climbed over.
9,310 we don't need no thought control steps.
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