Saturday, February 7, 2015
nice voice :)
TODAY THE raccoon appreciates the rush of wind fluffing up his fur towards the sky. A leaf swirls past his nose. His heart is pounding, his world a blur of colors.
At this moment he is invincible, he knows. No one can catch him or hurt him. But it can't last, the cold wind drying his eyes, this moment of no-past, no-future, only suspension.
There is a big difference, he thinks, between those who would immerse themselves in this nothingness, and those who would seek the way out. Yet the line between the two is very thin. Only one thing separates them, and it is not choice, or character.
He hits the ground. Looks up at the branch from which he fell. Snuffles, blinks, shakes his bruised head - finding it properly attached - and leaps into the bushes.