Technologies of the self, No. 12

Walking the great dog yesterday, I began to imagine that just under my sternum, I was pushing the handle of a pram, translation, perambulator, translation, baby carriage, in front of me, not with my hands, but with my torso. My back woke up. I felt an imagined resistance there to all that was moving forward, walkin’ my baby back home. The lesson, let your back stay back