the eccentric centrist

it was at the far reaches of the overlooking balcony that i felt that first breath of open air, once again. i was not born in or around this salad-bowl but managed to circle it for some long period of time, spiraling down until the middle of thie bowl i reached. wonderfully, the first rejuvenating properties of free breath come with a visual that is limited by these walls - hills, wooded - that shade my eyes like a horse's blinders.

- "now," i say, "i may," i think, "move forward."
in this place, this bowl place, forward, i suppose, is around and around. but as we start in one place, as the earth does, and travel our straight line, circling our sun, and thus arrive where we began our straight line, yet older, the center and the limits of our salad-bowl must be the same place, but older.