New Soil

He was walking along the river, again. But it was going in circles. The new ideas were pressing, and the inputs from other things, real things, public things, were sinking into him, and changing something. One more little unit, one more element into a bigger process, a process that always seemed to know its own course, in broader strokes. Over time.
It was turning into a solid first period, a period that had started on a little wall in the sunshine, in a beautiful corner of a beautiful little town, two years before. There was little stopping, only focusing at the moment, and keep moving. It had made the months interesting, as the growth of something new was happening, steadily. At some point there would be the questions of choices again, but not yet. A few more weeks. Some more efforts and early drafts and paragraphs, of something new. And digesting meetings of new people, conversations, and readings. The ebb and flow of a growing period. He looked down at the path before him, and at the trees along the river. Another step, and then another one. There had perhaps never been anything in life like this, before. Once the soil was more suitable, life had started to change.