The book I’m currently writing has me ponder the ideals and concepts of freedom. Emotional freedom. Physical freedom. Mental freedom. And that age old question that reoccurs when philosophizing such things: Does it truly exist? Contained, chained to gravity, is there true liberty?
Then again I think too much and my character isn’t a philosopher so I’ll put those thoughts in another book.
After climbing a great hill, one only finds that there are many more hills to climb. I have taken a moment here to rest, to steal a view of the glorious vista that surrounds me, to look back on the distance I have come. But I can rest only for a moment, for with freedom comes responsibilities, and I dare not linger, for my long walk is not yet ended.