Slow, Slow, Quick-Quick Slow

In one of the weirder games my subconscious plays to amuse itself, I just caught myself watching a NYC-based show and being ridiculously jealous of all the characters walking places.

One strides purposefully up the block on an errand.

Another tap-tap-taps along down Fifth Avenue.

Occasionally, all must break out into a full-out run.

I sigh, and glare at my once-again-recalcitrant feet, and mark off another month . . . er . . . day . . . okay, minute . . of recovery.

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