diapherein

Sometime long ago, I was picked up with a pair of feet bare if not for its socks. Down below my parent's flat, the carpark was desolate at an hour just a couple before people rose for our shared commutation. Yet, further in the distant past, the one was too early. With his full shoes and proper attire -- whatever that meant -- we went full-steam for what was to be our work: es spukt.

Tonight in a land where birds want to become trees, I came down to an alchemy of those two. Always too late, the other person had a few minutes of roaming. Almost as if he had one feet socked and the other in brown, aged leather.

And because I might just never learn how to drive, this is always about the proper lesson in waiting.