Plan a getaway,
escape this winter jail-
eternal sunshine!
Right outside my front door two cats were hijacking a beat up Vespa. To go where? To do what? Everything they needed was right there—they knew their territory, how to survive within it and find shelter, comfort, food. The Vespa had only recently arrived and its engine still offered warmth, its torn seat, a soft cushion to curl up and gather heat from the rays of winter sun. Existing in place, a plan to escape to nowhere. No desire for what will come in the future, no fear of what came before in the past. O death, where is thy victory? O death, where is thy sting?* The cats live completely in the moment and therefore for all time.
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