filling me with their juices of Knowledge. It is all gratifying, and humbling, simultaneously." "All is very simple here - perhaps I am just numbed, by the extravagancies, to the extravagancies, but perhaps not - the subtle nuances affected by acquaintances and cars and cities have evaporated." "I see other trails, wiggling throughout the forests and mountains, each leading to their own peak. How are there more than one? How can superlatives have plurals? Why do people want to visit the tops of mountains if they might fall, or might not know? What is the difference between the person and the mountain?" I thought also about lakes (neat), and living permanently on top (chilly during winter, not much arable land). Bugs started moving in, hoping, I presume, to partake in a taste of the balmy islands of the Mediterranean. Two other humans bounded up the granite boulders (boulders I had crawled up, with both hands, wishing for an ice pick) as if they were playing hop-scotch in an aeroplane. They spoke of fishing, and interstate highways, and expensive hydration systems. Jumping about on the top-most rock, they did not fall off. Soon they left. I soon left as well. I was happy with the mountain, and with myself. I was glad I got to the top, perhaps not ecstatic, but it was well worth it. I would do it again, for sure. On my way down, I thought about those trails. I thought of a cliché - how each person takes their own trail, some different, many the same, and how those who do not take a trail have three choices - to forge their own, to get lost, or to stand still. I wasn't quite sure where I applied (nor thought much more about it after tripping over a root), but thought it was an interesting cliché. I did not draw any conclusions. It would have been nice, I think, but unnecessary... what if I had? Where would I now be? Would it pique my interest to peak again? Discovery... I now (230' above sea-level) blame all my confusion on the absurdly thin oxygen at such an extreme elevation.
16 Renford Road (four)
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