"Before birth; yes, what time was it then? A time like now, and when they were dead, it would be still like now: these trees, that sky, this earth, those acorn seeds, sun and wind, all the same, while they, with dust-turned hearts, change only."
Ever gone back to a place and it still holds the same power that it did when you were there last?
Or that it has a power that is familiar and you can't quite touch the way you used to, like laminating your childhood stuffed animal.
Rock Creek Park has a bike path. It's the same path where I crashed my quadricycle into a tree and covered my Dad's handkerchief in so much blood it was entirely red and even though I was bleeding from my skull I was still amused.
Anyway, I was racing my dog and my dad and I decided to peddle down one of the biggest hills at the entire park. There is a pretty sharp turn at the bottom of the hill and in since I was 4-7 years old I hadn't taken physics I didn't know that making that sharp a turn at a high speed would result in my little frame going woooooshBANG into a tree resulting in a rough landing in a thorn bush.
I should have leaned into it. Or something. I don't know how low you can lean when you have training wheels bolted to your back tire.
This hill was a colossal hill. It's the kind I couldn't always peddle to the top.
Anyway. I went back years later and I barely recognized the hill. It was so little. The world was smaller.
Humans have to scramble day to day looking for new experiences to value. It's a constant chase to replace old stale memories.
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