You know that if you walk another 5 feet, you will reach that red line border,,,the line that separates all you ever wanted and wished for- and the maddening world of reality you've been running away from..
you then recite uncle Browning 's:
"Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach;
you then recite uncle Browning 's:
"Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach;
Three fields to cross till a farm appears;
A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch
And blue spurt of a lighted match,
And a voice less loud, thro' its joys and fears,
Than the two hearts beating each to each!"
not much time left and you need to decide...
...
and after an everlasting pause... you put your feet down over the other side....
the rat race swallows you in...
vertigo...vertigo....
and the sound of the shattering dreams....
echos...echos...
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