Hills will tell you that you hate running, but hills lie.

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Results of my macaron class. Lovely walks during the changing of colours. Morning walk by the river. At the Conservatory of Flowers, San Francisco. Beautiful day with beautiful flowers with my sweetie.

Half a smile the last sign of. Where time and distance are. Last fall smoldered into flames. And where you are buds.

A daily stroll through Bucharest. A Word A Week Photo Challenge.

What is so very cool about me. Sodden joy; hitting every puddle on the way. I cannot move the toes of my left foot. So I am thinking of Dean Potter. Here in the dark, in my bed. Waiting for sleep to come. The only respite from the fear. And the searing, fire breathing pain that attends. This paralysis injury that not a single doctor. I cannot move the toes of my left foot. I cannot feel my abdomen. I cannot feel my left thigh or my left butt cheek. No harness, no net.