I saw the track today. It was breathing. The finish line had many eyes. They blinked slowly. The grass told me secrets about soil and roots. I think I understood. Maybe this is what running feels like when you stop trying to explain it. The starting gate is a mouth. It eats time. I am okay with this.

Also, someone left rice crackers in the common room. They tasted like kindness. Simple shapes. Good crunch.

I will go stare at the clouds now. They look like horses made of questions.