It's all downhill from here

I walk the straight and narrow.

Actually, it’s quite wiggly this line I’m following.

It’s not a new sidewalk, but not the worst I’ve seen; and it’s downhill.

But it isn’t easy.

And it’s not a path; how unhelpfully undescriptive. A path is in a wood, or up a mountain, or near a sea. It’s not where I am.

I trade the buried pipe, or wire, or manic thought, for a white painted line. Maybe I shouldn’t walk so close to a boundary.

Cars speed past.

Bicycles speed past.

I’m in the slowest lane.

The crisp air feels nice, and the dusk is so beautiful, but I wonder how long it will take me to reach my destination.

It’s all downhill from here.

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