theredbaron

Is a life defined in fluid terms? Do I measure it in nights spent walking streets alone, and days spent with myself as company asking questions of the walls? Or do I measure it in moments? A roof's ledge, fifty feet above the street, with the River and Boston laid out before me; as a cold moonlit night behind me gave way to the slowly ascending sun behind the cityscape.

Just there, the space in my arms was filled for a moment's time; while I try desperately to make myself feel something.

This time, perhaps. Time will tell.