A week of beginnings. A week of close shaves with false fates. If you walk too slowly, you’ll fall into another destiny headlong. There may be spluttering brilliance; it’s hard to see through the smoke. If you walk too quickly, you might trip over into the arms of a Spanish lover, whose embrace lasts long enough to create an everlasting pinch of Sehnsucht but not long enough to satisfy it.
Of course, if you run…
or perchance, sleep…
you might find your dreams spindling into gold right before your eyes – not the kind of gold you want to grasp, but the kind made of sunshine and yolks and sunflowers and buttercup curtains on a rain-spotted window. And what a beautiful fate that would be! So sleep, or run; but don’t busy your head with timing your paces just so, or you might miss the one thing that happens to lead to another.