I'm walking backwards, hoping to end up a mile ahead. It's an odd sensation, retreading old ground. It's like visiting an enemy or dating an ex. It's a product born of forgetfulness and eagerness, lost items and lost hearts, a willingness to go forward but an inability to go.
So I've turned my back on the path and now I let my feet wander back down the familiar country lane in the hopes that I can pick up what I'm missing and fly again.
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The ancient Greeks believed we were backing into the future; we can see the past and present, after all.
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