gone fishin'

He sits at the streams edge lazily and attentively tending to his pole. The red and white globe floats away with the current and teases him by dropping below the water line in time with the waves. All day, nothing but sitting and staring. This slowness and patience refuels him for another week. He could hear again his own heartbeat and feel how the air entered and left his body. Even watching the development of his sunburn reconnected him to the definition of life. His friends need bars and lights and noise. He needs the sound the world makes when it wakes up.

Just thinking about my brother.