2005/10/15

These footprints look just like mine, crossing in front of my path, now. Just like mine, in the dust on the rough shale floor.

Thirsty. Have I slept... When have I ever slept... I never sleep, I am myself at all hours.

Orange light again, like a dying leaf hiding the sun, fluttering on the stone around a corner two turns ahead.

My legs churn away. Running is out of the question. Could something be watching me from those heights up where the ceiling ought to be?

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