He lets time elapse, returning to the past. Stacking plans vaguely and haphazardly on a makeshift cart with faulty wheels, he pushes tentatively over smooth paths, half-expecting disaster as he averts his gaze from what lies before him. Sometimes the front two wheels align, and the past dissipates in a steady forward advance. But often enough these wheels turn crooked and the cart jolts and stalls, leaving him reorganizing the carts’ uneven contents and choosing which ambitions to pick up or leave behind, fallen by the wayside. Though no one is watching and the world does not wait on the delivery of the cartload, he wonders sometimes about life off the path…sitting eyes closed under the cool shade of a banyan tree with no illusions of a determined journey. And there are moments when he lets go and leaves the cart where it stands, for hours and days even. Always coming back, though, he goes back to piddling away in the pursuit of a destination which never comes, never in fact existed, but whose romance keeps him plodding along with aimless inspiration and steadfast, maddening fervor.
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