getting away from it all

 

It’s not as hard to sit on the edge of a tall building as you might think. Philippe Petit did it before wire-walking between the twin towers of the World Trade Center.

Every building is different, but one way or another, most are not perfectly secure.

I have sat on the edge of buildings higher than fifty stories in New York, Boston, Philadelphia, Detroit (the easiest), Atlanta, Los Angeles (money had to change hands). and San Francisco (where I was the highest).

I never lost concentration, slipping off, and a sudden gust of wind only caught me once.

 

Photo by Yeshi Kangrang
For 100 Word Wednesday

crane

i craned my neck.

i was up on a crane with a camera and telephoto lens.

trying to get a shot of the ultra-rare frosty hill crane.

working for the bird-lover’s brotherhood, founded with a bequest from the estate of the actress jeanne crain (rip).

also funded by the ajax crane machine company.

ajax makes those little prize machines where the grabber grabs the little stuffed crane, if you’re lucky, and drops it in the shoot.

 

For Six Sentence Stories

so far

when you’re old and talking about life, “so far” can come to mean “that’s about it.”

not to belabor the obvious, but when you’re young, “so far” means the past is prelude and anything is possible in the future. the future and its promise gets whittled away as time goes on.

when you’re old, “so far, so good” can also gather some finality to it. the doctor says, well, you’ve had a good run, eighty years isn’t bad. it isn’t bad but why am i not consoled? who cares about the time passed? what about tomorrow?

i’m doing ok, so far.

 

For SoCS

wonder

I wonder what I’ll write today?

When you (yes, you) write a wonderful post, I wonder at it. I read it in wonder. In wonderment.

It’s a wonderment, a wonderwork. Full of wonderfullness. Wonderfullnesses.

It’s wondrous. Wonder of the world. Wonderopolis. Wonderville.

Some wonderkinds can do it when young. During the wonder years.

But me? I so want to write wonderfully, but I despair. If a post of mine turns out well, well, it’s a wonder. I go well, well. Will wonders never cease? Like I’m in some wonderland.

Are most writers wonderers?

Most of my wondering comes as I wander. I have wanderlust but not wonderlust. As I ramble, I wonder at wonderbras and Wonder bread and Wonderheart the Care Bear. 🤔 And Wonder Woman.

Other days I don’t wonder about anything. The word wonder just looks strange on the page.

 

For The Daily Post.