It takes a lot of courage to sit up. I hug my knees. Running the tips of my fingers over the scratches, brushing the dust and dirt and blood away. The laces of my boots are loose, undone, tangled. Just breathing and looking for a while. Just staring and taking it in. My hands are beautiful. Strong nails, square palms, deep dimple at the base of my thumb. Soft brown sugar skin. Am pleased my fingerprints are mine alone. This is me. I'm seperate now. I must walk to the town.
Ha! Maybe, standing like a newborn foal, I think, maybe I'll walk in circles for a while.
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