Calculated Risk

Cammino 053115_010

“You can not see every angle,” said the man with the sword.  “At some point, all movement is a calculated risk.”

“Fighting is so noisy,” I thought.  “Why did I ever want to be King?”

As if reading my thoughts, the sword said, “Shhhhh,” as it swept toward my head.

Picture credit – Zen Greenway

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It’s obvious that when the apocalypse comes, I will be one of the weak people. I will have no spin kicks with which to defend myself. I will have only the magic of my words and my understanding to protect me. I will be meat for the beast. (Unless I can engage him in conversation.) And I am fine with that. If my death at monstrous hands becomes imminent, I hope I can meet it in a lounge chair, sipping on a gin martini.

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