You in Mock-Joy

Perhaps; or maybe a man standing out over the water staring back at you. (Was he waving? Eyes flourishing in the sun, but the sky is so pale blue and the sun loses it's sheen until it's nothing more than white, white, and more white timidly fading into space.)

I waved back anyway, that's what I'm trying to say, that I was at least willing to listen to the idea. And Why not, if everything in pursuit of still had the same goal ahead of it. The idea was to let your passivity take you to where it wanted you to go, to be completely engulfed with it, and therefore, continuously surprised. Do we wade then? And am I nothing but the movement of an image in rippled water? (There was something underneath it all and each question that came to mind made it ring; a low, deep ring that sent shivers down my spine. The coolness of the earth, or the air around a moving car at night- they all seemed to.. correct.)

And I could think of nothing else to do; we said no word to each other, but we stared for a little while. The wind rang in my ear, sweeping out from the softness that surrounded us. There was this air of mutual understanding for a second before my back was turned.

So I whistled out into the afternoon: (A little tune I heard on the radio calling out to me.)