https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/TheFreedomSale/And I walked a mile, till I saw again, there will be a dawn to every night. [A string of stories and reflections- in sequence. Please critique and comment.]hourly12000-01-01T12:00+00:00https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/TheFreedomSale/621954Saturday, July 25, 2009 She was waiting for him. She hated waiting. He was already 4 and a half minutes late. "He should've known" she mused,"- there can be no delays." She sat impatiently- the long line of her legs adroitly cutting through the humble air 'neath the fine wooden table, that was...https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/TheFreedomSale/621953Friday, July 24, 2009 Let's waste time: chasing cars- He held the phone, even after the voice had waned- replaced by the strict mechanic symphony of beeps. For the vastness of 60 seconds, he could not bring himself to make the sleek instrument part from his left ear. Then he blinked. He looked at...https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/TheFreedomSale/621952Friday, July 24, 2009 The Path Of Smoke. The incomplete combustion of tobacco, processed neatly within the ashen confines of a 110 mm long tube of paper is enough to initiate carcinogenesis. It was also enough to grant her 3 minutes of thought. The waves of smoke had adopted a swerving strut to...https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/TheFreedomSale/621951Wednesday, July 22, 2009 I'll cry a tear; you wipe it off. The changeless clatter of a rusted locomotive hauling across an old steel railroad was similar to the echo throbbing within her breast. It was loud, yet unexcited, impatient yet slow- like the notes of a piano that doesn't want to be...https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/TheFreedomSale/621950Saturday, July 4, 2009 The Pores It was a single drop of sweat, the fountainhead: the pores on his neck. This globule of metal and mineral was racing against a slash of cool air that would dry it up, if not now, 60 seconds into the future. The fan was not working anymore. His skin, was roasted, a...