A walk down D-Yellow Street

A girl walked down the street, her old leather sandals flip flopping in an echoing cadence through the silence.

She wore not much more than worn black rugby shorts, and old t-shirt and a zip up hoodie from some long forgotten concert back in the mists of time. Her reddish brown hair caught the early evening light and blazed like a prismatic fire of swirling strands in the gentle breeze. The world around her seemed to bristle with fresh sensations and her entire being seemed beset by pins and needles. Her peripheral vision seemed to crawl like millions of tiny ants making a quick line to a sugar cube. Shining colours and finely buzzing lines. That didn't diminish the simple pleasure and optimism of a leisurely stroll through streets lined with deserted childrens' toys and tall trees draped with millions of shimmering green leaves though. All felt right with the world and everything felt possible. Everything FELT.

She walked past the old condemned house set back into the long, draping tendrils of lonely willow trees. The broken down facade and long boarded up windows seemed worrisome. The ramshackle, half hidden house seemed to breath menace from its very core, and the girl could picture, in her mind's wide open eye, a depraved recluse lurking in the shadows created by splintered planks, cloaked in salvaged human flesh awaiting the next harvest. She simply shrugged her buzzing shoulders and strode back towards home.

Just then the shadow of a small figure skulked low and slow across the street just up the way from where she stopped to look. It had to be a badger! That vicious beast stood in the way of the walking girl, exploring the world outside, and the safety of her home full of acquaintances in various stages of expanded consciousness. They were all riding the waves too and the drift was drawing her back to the comfort of the tacky patterned, thrift store, couch cushions. She flip flopped closer, awaiting the screeching, biting and rending of flesh that would come from the badger laying in wait for her. The little orange ball of fuzz closed the gap between them and the girl fondly stroked just behind its tiny pointed ears.

It was only a kitty cat. Galaxies of knowledge glowed in the eyes of the ginger feline purring in satisfaction at the pleasing feel of a scratch behind the ears. The fur felt like silk to the girl's fingertips; silk woven with strands of time and experiences the likes of which only a chosen few were capable of sharing.

The girl returned home from her adventure to friendly voices and digital worlds playing out on large screens. Nothing lost and no need for exchange.