A Spot in Time: Mindful of the World around you!

Oct 27, 2011   //   by Shawna Figueira   //   Blog  //  No Comments

A Spot In Time

The imaginary reverberation of time pushing forward sends the rush of attendance-wary creatures springing from wooden panels of intense intimate confinement within. Three-inch spiked guardians rip into white and gray spotted linoleum because of that 95% that most assuredly was 100% material. Sneakers, the most telling guardian, garbed with holes and topped with hairy legs and baggy pants race against the inescapable push of forward movement—gliding through mobile groups of obstacles to get to that place….that spot. You know the one, they know the drill. Heart racing, fists pumping in a steady rhythmic swing breaking the air-waves for supposed speed. The mesh of green is conquered; even the tricky brown patches hidden within the mesh evade the shoe.

Peripheral vision? Check—spotting quicker breaks in traffic and secret routes unadorned by objects of obstruction. Sweat-droplets break across the squished encasing of theoretical contemplation. The sneakers finally hit the narrow concrete stepping stones in a pounce, 1, skip, land, motion. Twisting to one side the balled air-slasher uses it’s magic to gain entrance to a glass container of frigid air. The sweat becomes a syrupy substance pasted to the hidden crooks and crannies of your map. That doesn’t bother the sneakers, they know the passageway; quickly sneaking by wooden defense after wooden defense. Until they see that wooden panel with the slight crack creeping its way down the side. A splash of green paint from an accidental brush spots the right-hand corner….It’s the one.

The sneakers slow in the seduction of the knowing spot to come. One foot before the other—glide. Peripheral check to the back corner of this box overloading with foreign intimacy. The sneakers trudge on toward the self-deemed holy alter of your presence. Your map, magic, contemplation case, and sneakers directly align with the spot only to find to your betrayal your alter composed of another contaminating presence. Too late…The forwardness of movement has passed in your attempts to pass it. Too late. The spot, is no longer the spot. The sneakers lead you to an alternate position in time in wait.

By: Aryssa Washington

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