There's always shit to think about. There's always something going on.
It's left a mark on the concrete. The ash stains are a familiar sight. It welcomes me back and tells me to contemplate the various events that happen in life.
I'll sit with my head bowed, then look up after a while. And then back down. And then back up again. The murk grows bigger with each passing day.
That's fine. Better on the ground than in my head.