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April 18, 2008
The footsteps plough by on the road down below. The jogger passes by, jogging shorts flipping, lungs bellowing, legs shining in the spring sun, but the footsteps have taken a detour. They have turned abruptly, leapt the landscape wall below, crossed the delicate spring grass, and have jog, jog, jogged straight up the wooden wall, and over my balcony rail. Through the screen they come now, fifty yards of footsteps, circling the room and pounding the ceiling before slipping back out the screen and dancing on the balcony, before leaping off and flashing up the road to rejoin the jogger.