at harbourfront

What pain I put myself through, even as the water fountain is swishing, and the late summer afternoon is bringing moderate temperature, and the sky is laying down an even distribution of sunshines and shades upon this urban park, in order to condemn myself for not having written, and by so doing confine myself to reading a book about the art of using words and stringing long sentences, ending with a heavy cloud above my head, and still unsure whether the past hours have been punitive or pleasurable. I have sat for too long. The sun and the air and the sounds of water and the awaiting of friends tonight do make for an excellent time to take a stroll, and while at it, I let my thoughts stretch a bit, and perhaps, after seeing a series of tiny shops, I shall amidst this contemplation of pain-or-pleasure come up with the positive, or better yet, say to myself it is but an experience, and only that, and that is all.

first draft 070622