plastic toy

 The second time to do the round about the castle. The round is getting easier all the time, maybe this is because the feet know where to go and there is no reason to think about the path any more. Maybe the small amount of training is having an effect, that would be good too, but the cautious soul is wary of wishful thinking. To be able to discard ten kilos just like that would be nice, and the doctor's sneering latin remarks about adipositas and hypertonic complications would be a thing of the past.

Near the top, at the castle there are three youths each enjoying a bottle of beer, they wave in greeting at the sight of one struggling up the hill. They are probably part of the crew redecorating the tower on the castle, and are enjoying an evenings relaxation.

Wave, and carry on.

There is a family on a walk in the woods, the father pause to take a picture of his daughter. Stand back, out of the way.

She makes her photo face, then carry on . A small boy running along the path clutching a plastic toy, exchange grins in passing.

And just at the top of the sunken pathway, a son taking his aged father out for a walk. The father is absorbed, absent. The son returns a friendly greeting.

Think thirty years into the future, will there then be the same scene, or will weather changes have put an end to everything by then? 

And back in town again, the same family with the pretty daughter. They went down by the front path, and so it is: all the paths seem to lead back to town.