|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
||||||||
 |
 |
||
 |
 |
 |
|
 |
|||
 |
|||
 |
|||
 |
|||
 |
|||
 |
|||
 |
|||
 |
|||
| Drawn to the rock, you press ahead. Your shoulders now ache with the weight of your backpack. There are many things in there— Packages you carry. A neat package of unanswered questions, a bundle of worries, tied tightly, scars from a broken relationship, grief. As you walk, you list all your packages. In the silence you name them all. (Pause) Continued... |
|||||||||
| Back |
Page 3 of 11
|
||||||||
