Cell

A young man attempts to escape technology and seek solace in nature

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I walk in the woods, leave the cell phone home.

I try to absorb each curve in roads, savor little streams running down muddy knolls.

The cell phone resounds in my mind. Has someone texted?

I look to the pines, the pale blue and pink of evening, the rising moon. How vast this scene is.

Email beckons, demanding. Is this the day I get published in The New Yorker? Do I have electronic bills waiting?

I don’t need to check. An hour won’t make a difference. Will it?

I feel feet moving faster. I try to slow down.

Phone awaits.

 By Yash Seyedbagheri

From: United States