Aiming for a creative life

I Am Santo

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“Isn’t it just the damnedest thing?” he asked in a cracking voice gruff with tobacco and experience. “It’ll carry you, transport you from here to another place and from there, another and another.” I nodded, hot sun playing at the corners of my eyes. He smiled crooked, lips curled somewhere in the middle of rumination. “No one is locked down anymore. You don’t have to stay anywhere.” I didn’t nod, but looked him straight in his cold blue eyes, framed with squinting wrinkles left by weary years. “It’s not enough to just go places,” I told him. “I’m sure you know that. The heart is what keeps us home.” To this he shrugged. “Maybe,” he offered. “But there’s at least a choice now. You can always go.” With that he gestured with a shaking hand to the endless blue above us, and I noticed it was deeper than his eyes. He knew the sky, he’d lived it and brought it pale inside of him. He knew being captured by circumstance and geography, but he also knew freedom. “Have you fled?” I asked, unsure if he’d follow. “Yes,” he said. “But I couldn’t get away.” #irispad #day17 #sept17 #transport #photoaday #portsmouthnh #bus #church #oldnorthchurch #citylife #writing #writer #poem #poetry #story (at Escape)

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