He who seeks to approach his own buried past must conduct himself like a man digging. He must not be afraid to return again and again to the same matter; to scatter it as one scatters earth, to turn it over as one turns over soil. For the matter itself is only a deposit, a stratum, which yields only to the most meticulous examination what constitutes the real treasure hidden within the earth: the images, severed from all earlier associations, that stand –like precious fragments or torsos in a collector’s gallery –in the prosaic rooms of our later understanding. – Walter Benjamin
The best were the runners.
Running saved Jack’s life,
probably for certain.
Didn’t know who he was
until he started to run.
Didn’t know what it meant to be comfortable
in his own skin until…
The only time he felt comfortable in life,
when he was running.
And whatever there was in that time,
in that running hour or however long,
managed to continue to fill his soul
until the next day when he could reload
his runnerness.
