She stopped to rest.
Momentarily, in the field of pure possibility, her position unfixed, indeterminate.
Without hovering, or insecurity.
It was an image of being in the vast field of life.
Without knowing. In a position of unknowing, positionless, I suppose. Existing without location or momentum. Vibrating with possibility. It wasn't exciting or fearful, just what is.
Nothing is fixed or certain, though there are always solutions to problems.
Then she continued on.
She didn't doubt her certainties.
Sheath of feeling. Words groping to touch air.
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