Stop and stare. At the world that goes by you. Turn around and notice what you have walked by without noticing. It was lying there in your path because it wanted you to see it. I’m on this travelator and I don’t know where it began or where I get off, but it just won’t stop moving. And time is moving past too fast. To my right is this life I want, with the trinkets and bows and pink ribbons tied around a picture of my perfect family. But I can’t stop to grab it now. Time won’t stand still long enough. I notice that my baggage is on this moving strip. I carry too much baggage every time I travel. Is it my nature or actually a significance of what I am blindly pulling along with me all the time? My shoulders haven’t felt relaxed in the longest time even though I’m not carrying anything.
What do you think this means?