Back, and forth; back, and forth.
It almost feels like I’m flying; just for a moment before I plummet back to earth, and then the motion picks up again before I can touch the ground.
Back, and forth; back, and forth.
I’m not cold on this dreary night – on this winter’s night where the moon and the stars are shrouded by black storm clouds – though I’m dressed in tattered clothes.
It’s almost as if I’m oblivious to the chilling wind and the rain that seems so everlasting, just as I’m oblivious to the ache in my legs after running for miles and miles on end.
And without a streetlight, everything seems just that much blacker.
Yet I’m used to the dark.
I don’t even have a single memory of my human parents.
But, I’m oblivious to it all; even to the eerie creaking of the wet and rusty play equipment that surrounds me in this deserted park.
All that I’m aware of is the momentum of the swing that continues its trance, continuing to carry me – back, and forth; back, and forth.
It’s probably the closest I’ll ever get to flying. Not that I mind, for me and my pack are supposedly the ‘Children of the Moon’.
But I think that we’re the freest souls you’re likely to come across, able to run when we like, and wherever we like, without any limitations.
It’s a bit like flying, if you think about it; it’s just you and the great expanse of the world before your eyes.