Day 2,915 —Sandal Weather— with a PICTURE of an EMPTY ROOM with a TV playing for NO ONE #700

I strapped my sandals on and wore my blue shorts. I felt strong hearing my feet hit the ground and recover, hit the ground and recover, hit the ground and recover. I can get lost in the pattern of my own feet. 

I went to the train tracks and thought about running across the bridge, but I heard the train in the distance and took a different way home, across the street, through the Wal-Mart parking lot.  

I love the humid muggy air. It feels like I am swimming as I make it through, as I struggle through, as I glide through, as I move through, as I float through, as I find my way through the fog.