Impulse is a dish best served steaming hot; distance is a deterrent to that.
Doesn't matter whether you're four or five hours ahead of me (and I behind you), the journey will still take over half a day (if you factored in the time spent waiting in-transit). The steam wafting from the hot dish will dissipate long before it arrives at its destination; time will cool it.
This much I'd been thinking about today.
However, the desire, the longing - the skeleton beneath the cooling, singed flesh - remains. Untouched.
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