Prose, poetry, fiction, and rambles from people with a bit too much time on their hands.

but, can they compare?

I’ve stood atop the Great Wall of China, let the wind tousle my then short hair and felt the thousand-year-old stone run along my fingertips;
I’ve wandered aimlessly without ever losing my sense of direction through the streets of Tokyo, losing myself in the crowd;
I’ve climbed to the top of the Eiffel Tower of Paris, France, staring into the city as the elevator slowly made its ascent;
I’ve waded in the waters of the most pristine beaches of the Australian coast, feeling the sand between my toes and the sun shine above;
I’ve done those all alone, those wondrous feats.

I’ve whiled away the hours sitting on a worn corduroy couch watching what could aptly be described as trash television;
I’ve concocted the most sappy of poems, most hopelessly romantic of writings, typing away on a worn keyboard or writing with a worn pen;
I’ve watched the clouds saunter by on their beautifully blue walkways in the sky, noting each individual shape they formed;
I’ve enjoyed countless hours, minutes, seconds, in conversation, sitting on a wrought metal chair in an old cafe;
I’ve done those all with you, those wondrous feats.

But, can they compare?
By all accounts, of course they can.

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