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the art of running - ramblings:

Oct. 4th, 2003

06:14 pm - the art of running

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In the house my dad built on a hill a mile from Oregon
With the giant heart carved in it
(no one really knew how it got there)
I felt connected

Something about being isolated above the world
With everything you could see yours
{or if it wasn't we just ventured more quietly)
That defines you

Those few years alone walking acres and miles
Between separations, 7 moves in
(screams now echoing throughout the house)
Marked the year of my escape

Too many dishes and careless words thrown
Or, if the silence hung too heavy
(only closed doors and tv sounds)
And I was gone

I assume that's when I learned the art of running.