Some days are a time for renewal, for rethinking the weathered walk through everyday life. In the middle of it all, wrapped up and tangled, is a key. Are we just too afraid to turn it?
The city pours and seethes, but I filter out the noise until there is only pale silence. Then I listen for the pulse, the beat that plays from deep within. There it is, that familiar tune, slightly crackling as though playing through an old, forgotten radio in the distance.
What is the use in only going through the motions? The key is waiting, begging to turned as everyone traces paths around it, circling and passing but never touching. The paths are so well worn, there are grooves in the dirt, pebbles all swept aside so there may be no obstructions.
There - a gap. Take it, fling yourself off the magnet path into a different sort of field, a free flying one. Out here, beyond the blurry atmosphere, your goals are so clear. It's breathtaking, mesmerizingly clear where to go. It's been there all along. And just within your grasp, floating in midair before you, is the key.