I have certain thoughts that I entertain only in park. As I walk along the path by the pond I see them up ahead like a friend waiting to meet me, sitting at the picnic table. I sit down and begin conversing. Some of the thoughts are technical, like the chapters of the physics book that I carry with me. Some are personal, and my life and people I have known. It depends on the weather. On rainy days it will be more reflective. Today the rain stopped, and we had cloudy cool skies with enough sun to keep from being chilly. A good days for physics. A good day to use the ramada in the park to test the chapters of my quantum field theory book. I get all the chapters correct easily, but miss on a few subsections. They are in the advanced chapters, where the advanced material has not yet entered a deeper understanding in my mind.
Coming and going on the path, I usually peek into the Library, to make a daily audit of the comings and goings of the titles, adult and children in nature, on its two shelves. When I pacing around in my thoughts in the ramada, I sometimes catch the red box of the Library out of the corner of my eye, as it sits along the path, and I my mind processes it as a person.
The puffy clouds over the mountains remain, beautiful with grey and white textures, casting luscious shadows on the mountains just below them. The clouds are reflected in aching clear splendor in the bond as one walks along the path.
It took me several minutes of pacing in the ramada, and sitting at one of the picnic tables with my book for several more minutes, to realize that there are now four metal picnic tables in the shelter instead of two.
My old friends, those thoughts that wait for me, distract me, it seems. Meet me in the shelter, I tell them, as I leave my apartment. We will talk about quantum field theory.
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