Hemingway gave us the perfect closing line from his book "The Sun also Rises."
"Yes, isn't it pretty to think so...."
We all carry our own pretty to think so. That version of a life that might have been. If we had turned left instead of taken a right.
If that lover or acquaintance had stayed around a little longer. If we had spoken up instead of being quiet. If we had only kept our mouth shut and listened.
And here we are on a quiet Tuesday morning, catching ourselves daydreaming if it could’ve worked out. If trajectory would have taken another angle
That dream. That person. That life.
"Yes, isn't it pretty to think so?" A line full of melancholy...
The bulls are waiting behind the heavy wooden gate. The morning sun has barely burned off the night air in Pamplona, but already the blood is stirring. Men stretching and praying, some hungover, some hung up on something they should’ve let go long ago. You don’t run with bulls unless you’re chasing something or trying to forget something.
Tuesday morning and the only thing to do is get up, lace up your shoes, and run....
....because the gate is about to open.
