The heat cometh.

His words created a world in my mind like being inside a camera obscura, watching the comings and goings as if from some dream-like, thinly veiled perspective. Hard not to look down upon my self with benevolence and a detached understanding. I move as if in sleep, at times. It's like when you have the feeling that you know what is going to happen, but you go through the mechanics of the task just to watch it unfold. She says sometimes, Don't let yourself get attached to anything you are not willing to walk out on in 30 seconds flat if you feel the heat around the corner. And it makes me wonder if I really know what it is to be attached. As if perhaps there was some cleaving in my past that I can't even conjure up anymore, but that has had its effect none-the-less.

We move like shadows on the edge of the other's world. A fog light faintly obscures the darkness from time to time, but it's mostly fumbling and faith. I walk the path with determined steps, fully knowing that at the end it becomes so narrow that it could only ever accommodate a lone sojourner.

And then I laugh to myself when, peering into that distant future, I see that I am accompanied by my sisters and we are not so vein as to need to walk two abreast. We walk single file, and take turns at the lead.

And for that I am blessed beyond comprehension.