It’s like paradise…

It’s like paradise, and she’d never seen it before.

It’s a haven of lush green foliage, croaking frogs and gushing streams.

The air feels alive, pulsating and breathing its own breath, in and out and out and in.

The evening light is lingering and the birds are settling in, content to watch the world fall asleep as the last rays slowly disappear.

And she runs, breathing hard. Her feet pound the footpath, shooting pressure up her legs, thumping rubber soles on hardened concrete.

Thump, thump, thump. She flies through the night air, feeling its breath all over her. Exhaustion has set in, and yet, pushing her body through the environment, embracing every sound and breathing in each whiff of blooming bougavillia, she’s waking up inside.

A long day in artificial air, on an artifical chair, lights bright and to-do lists growing, this new ritual is freeing. And forgiving. Everything around her remains whether she runs by or not. She is not pressured, but gently invited in.

The trees stand tall, fresh leaves falling daily, with no regard to who stops to take the time to notice their new growth.

The ducks and their babies aren’t waiting for her, or relying on her, but will gladly watch her should she choose to enter their world.

And the evening light, the overseer of this perfect time of day, does not base his routine or schedule on whether she has visited or not. He dims ever so quietly, unobtrusely leaving the rest of the environment, only to appear again the very next day.


I wrote this a few months ago, after one of what was then a tri-weekly run.

I was running because a) I had a new running app. that I had to try out and b) doesn’t everyone harbour a secret dream to be effortlessly athletic and glide around the neighbourhood in ultra white runners and cute running shorts?

And I was writing about it because I had just downloaded a great (free) text editor called OmmWriter and when you’re staring at a gloriously uncluttered screen and being lulled into creativity by incredibly soft and soothing sounds, you can’t help but try and turn the most sweaty, clumsy and uncoordinated part of your day into something (hopefully) poetic and beautiful.

The running habit only did last another couple of weeks.


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