Crossing the Jungle
Like a Paleo woman, I leave my home early in the morning, making my way across the plains into a jungle. I walk a mile to the edge each day and then crouch, waiting. The waiting gives me time to think and reflect, but suddenly, as if I see a glimpse of an antelope through the trees, I am on my way. I quickly weave through the jungle descending deeper, until I stop again to wait. While I’m thankful for the pause, a chance to catch my breath, I know that it will be short. I will soon be leaping up, rushing ahead, trying to get there on time. By the time I arrive, sweat sits upon my pores and my breath moves quickly. I’ve worked up an appetite, so the food I gather here is welcome sustenance.
After eating, the french press coffee has steeped and I pour myself a cup. I sit down to an inbox of emails and a stack of bills, letters and junk mail. For the next seven hours, I am an office girl with a head full of books and bookkeeping in a quaint Brooklyn brownstone.
Then I revert back to primitive instinct once again as I commute through the jungle, toward the plains of New Jersey.