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A wonderful wetness rests in the misty air, spilling onto paving stones glistening through transcendental street lighting. I feel a little unsettled, my breathing hasn't found its rhythm today. I think of circadian rhythms, all these other activities within me coming to life as I wander through and past these familiar worlds. Words fade, feelings pervade. An imperceptible mingling of inside and outside. This outside exercising power over me, energies that I vaguely feel. I walk on by. Knowing little of how I want to think my thoughts, this daily practice; sensing, contemplating, meditating, with a walk, this wandering. A memory of being very young, wandering off, becoming lost, frightening and exciting at the same time, and becoming lost again, and finding a way, or being found, or sometimes staying lost for a little too long and being frightened again. And this feeling, later, a memory, a feeling, a knowing for oneself. A car passes by, a smoking tail pipe, a vapour trail, I think of a log fire, the smoke swirling around, wondering where it is bound, and gradually settling down, the flames behaving themselves again. Into the night air. I turn a few more corners, this season, a time to be born, a time to die. I realise my breathing has settled a little, it has found a rhythm with my walking, an equanimity. I feel a little settled, grounded, thinking vanishing, thoughts dissolving within the wetness. And here I am drinking coffee and it's nearly time to go. I hold my glass, sip my water and hope you have a good day.

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