Zeno On Vacation

Zeno on Vacation - In praise of immobility It certainly isn’t far from his room to the ocean. A few steps. Easily navigable, he says to himself. Not a thing to it. On with the sandals and away we go. The sun’s cooperative enough. So is the sand. But wait. Hold everything. A proof, clouds of logic blowing in from memory. The waves farther away now, much farther. Not going anywhere. Ever. Statuesque. And no way even to call his pal Heraclitus at the Tiki Bar. No way to meet the girls. How they got there, of course, he hasn’t the slightest idea.