Es. Cap. Eh.

What would it be like, to run away? Not to get anywhere..just to run; to run red lights and see crimson, goldenrod and teal. To run..across Water, and Air; to smile, and wave (or wink) and fly.
And to not need to be caught.
To run across different streets and area codes and continents and timezones..to zones where Time heals, in the stead of pressuring One to do so. It might be nice, to get away.
And what would we be, then?
Who would I be, leaving behind scars and bruises and..people. People? People..'s words and laughter and smiles. Who would I be, amidst and within completely new skin?
Would it be nice to get away?

..escapism fails to cover up sentimentality.