Black and White Are Not Colors

For over two months now, I have been walking Pete Hollows Trail almost daily.

I have made a few friends, I hope, saying hi while cautiously getting around each other on the narrow trail. Nobody meant any harm. Thank you.

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I have met the trail maker. He told me that this trail is his masterpiece. I think I start to understand what he meant by this. Thank you.

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I also met the Hermit. A friendly looking shy guy wearing an NRA cap, and camping out in all kinds of weather away from the rest of us. He took care of the trail by cutting down fallen logs, too. Thank you.

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When I started this, it was still winter, and every little drizzle would soak you. Now, the tree leaves provide shelter enough. Thank you.

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There are secret spots, too, that provide inspiration, where you have to step off the trail a bit. Thank you.

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Then there are seven streams to cross. They help keeping track of time. Thank you.

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Oh, there is light and dark, separate and together since the beginning.  

All this makes a place, and forms its character, and builds it a home, slowly, for some.

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And then there is Cassiopeia. This is her home.

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She taught me that it is not us who own a place. It is not a question of ownership, but of belonging. Thank you.

We have no right to remove her, or anybody, from where they belong.


In Memoriam George Floyd, May 25, 2020.

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