Sunday, November 11, 2007
The Comfort of a Human's Feet
The pilot just said we're beginning our descent, and that we're only 90 miles from Seattle. Maybe my sense of time has been impaired by the drugs. He also said we're flying at an altitude of 28,000 feet. That's really high! I wish I could get up to a higher spot, so I could look down through a window -- I bet it's beautiful.
Even as my man is taking me from my home, to who-knows-where, I can't help but find comfort in his presence. When he snuggles his feet against the sides of this bag, I can't help but want to lean into them, as if he were providing me with some sort of safety. Such cognitive dissonance! Is it just me, or is life terribly confusing?
Even as my man is taking me from my home, to who-knows-where, I can't help but find comfort in his presence. When he snuggles his feet against the sides of this bag, I can't help but want to lean into them, as if he were providing me with some sort of safety. Such cognitive dissonance! Is it just me, or is life terribly confusing?
