Holy Krishna, my lower back is killing me. Yesterday a friend and I went to yoga for the first time in weeks and Shiva laid waste to my hips and hamstrings. They don't call her The Destroyer for nothing. Now when I move not only are my muscles torn by the thin twisting tendrils of tenderness, but my nerve endings sting like little electric jellyfish tentacles. Namaste.
Tonight the moon hangs like a clipped fingernail adorning a shivering sky. I wonder if it appears to be in the same phase at the same time across the globe. I just checked. The answer is: kind of. There is a difference in appearance - but not in phase - when viewed from the southern hemisphere compared to the northern hemisphere; it's inverted. The romantic in me likes the idea that I could be looking up at the moon thinking of someone and they may be doing the same. Both of us sharing the same moon, the same moment.
There was an eerie kind of stillness in the city tonight. The streets were empty and dark, crowded with cold air. Rushing past with a cold air of self-importance, the wind seemed to chase the warmth, forcing it into hibernation.
I think that's where all of my thoughts went too; hiding under the covers, trying to stay warm.
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