You can run, but . . .

 

   I have an image of myself racing through the corridors of time, fleeing something. Time, space, people, and events keep rushing past.   I keep flying through them, twisting and turning, looking for a dark place to hide.

     I spin out and plunk myself down for awhile on some island of relative peace. Just as I am catching my breath, an earthquake, a tidal wave, an epidemic, a war, intervenes and I am off again, running as fast as I can. There is no where to go and no one to see. Just the flight itself.

     What am I fleeing? Who am I fleeing? I have no idea how to escape it! I can’t go any faster. I can’t find better hiding places.

     It pursues me. I feel its hot breath, on my neck. I don't dare look behind me. Please, please, please, leave me alone. Whoever you are. Can’t you see I just want to be left alone? Why can’t you leave me alone? Whoever you are.

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