I'm running through an ancient hill city in southern Europe. I feel peaceful and as light as a moth, but I'm not running for fun.
If I stop running, I will lose all my memories. I'm not worried because I feel like I can run forever and I'm having a good time.
I run through sunny apartment courtyards, deserted plazas, tight crooked alleys. I dodge through private property to avoid traffic stops. I run past Sunday picnics and people hanging their laundry, to the outskirts of town, past the castle, where there are no roads. I run right off a really steep dropoff.
It's green and rocky and beautiful for miles and I keep my feet under me for 15 yards. The last thing I think when I start to fall down is, "Elmer's glue is NOT food," and I realize this all has happened before, and I wake up. With my legs still twitching.
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