Dusty roads

Realised that I’ve been a tad verbose of late and will try to tone that down a little. Shorter posts that make some sense might actually be better than long (winded) posts that make slightly less sense as they go along. Or maybe not – but rest assured, the long windedness will return. You can’t really take it out of a person.

Just got back from a really slow run this evening and the extra time it took me to complete the normal route allowed me to take everything that’s around me. My running route takes me round the back of the school and along the dusty dirt roads that lead to the surrounding villages. No photos this time because the camera’s pretty heavy and I’m not a fan of lugging things to further slow me down. I’m slow enough as it is. But moving on…

Best part about the normal route is that it takes me westwards – into the setting sun. What more could one want in a running route where you can take in the sky as it slowly darkens and displays the spectacular palette of colours that we can’t even begin to describe. Was pretty windy today (newspaper described it as ‘gusty’) and that kicked up a fair amount of dust but also tickled the trees in a way to make them rustle and whisper for the entire time I passed them. Long dusty roads often conjure images of drudgery and the mundane but when taken at the right time and spirit, the road can be a great place to be.

After all, there’s much to be said about the journey isn’t it?


Always space for another sunset no?

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about the brushhead

had a head like a brush (it's more like an egg now). seeks to sweep through thought and faith with that brush. tries to wax philosophical but often forgets to wax off. trying to be good brush to all, while discerning what kind of brush he's meant to be.

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