The cold chases her hands as she quickens her stride, “keep moving” she says to herself “and you won’t feel the pain”.  It’s not the type of bitter cold you would curse, it’s a small price to pay to live where you can almost kiss the clouds.  She is happy, and despite the ornery bite of the wind the sun is far more persistent.  She tells herself the sun is hers and as she stands there in silent she says “thank you” softly but audibly nonetheless.

“Keep moving” she says before stopping once again for a brief moment so the warmth of her sun could gently cradle her face.

“Keep moving” she says…

The city is alive and not without grit.  This she knows; she’s in it, she feels it and without her consent she is a part of it.  It lingers by her side and stares at her as a cigarette dangles from the side of its mouth. She stares back to convey her resilience. She is waiting for a train.

The tracks bear witness of those who have also lingered in an unmeasurable past with cigarettes dangling from the sides of their mouths.

She’s not afraid, she empowers herself with a look in her eye that she shares with others who choose to connect.  Downloading the MP3 file that landed in her mail she resides in a moment she knows is hers and pretends the song was written for her.  She knows it wasn’t but doesn’t care.  With a deep breath she closes her eyes and listens to his song, commanding the city to briefly relinquish its grit.

“Keep moving” she says…

She is,
~ The Urban Mountaineer