Returning from Walkabout in untrammeled snow. Turning, I saw my footprints. Medium size, not uncommon.
Sand, snow or earth, footprints do not last long. A mark, a measure of where we have been, a pace held and gone.
Some like to leave their mark, or wish they made a bigger mark. Footprints wear away. It is the thing that cannot be seen, memories of the walk, that persist.
Footprints do not last, I do not mind.
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