Walking, Listo, you and I walking and where we go, nobody knows, and it is good not to know.

Walking, and it is good to have you by my side, and it is good to feel the sand scraping underneath my feet.

The waves crash. The lowrider has been left behind. The clock has been abandoned. I don’t care about being late for anything. We make no road walking on this beach. It would be futile to try when the wind and waves would simply blow and wash away any trace that we ever even existed.

Running to a goal pushes on to a focused future, a flawed fate. A goal is simply a good lie to make-believe about the meaning of life.

Caminando, caminando—I am walking to whoever I am. My soul is in each step.

Listo, you walk and are with me. You walk without thinking, and I know we are fine.

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