I walk. I walk to the bank, the pharmacy, and the grocery store. I walk to buy shoes, batteries, and presents. I walk to coffee places and restaurants. I walk to the occasional pedicure and massage. I walk to the train. Today I walked 1.3 miles each way to get my hair cut. I walked along a busy street that is frequently a route I drive to travel longer distances. You can drive down a street a hundred times, and you will not see what you can't help noticing as a pedestrian.
Like a cement chair.
I'm a fan of public art. It was very warm today, and it might have been a lovely day to sit in a cement chair in the shade and listen to poetry. The poetry, however, would have to be blasted at Rolling Stones-concert-volume in order to be heard over the traffic.
It seems there's a tradition of stone chairs in my neighborhood. The walk revealed this trio of seats in a sort of no-man's land practically under the freeway.
And this--which I believe is a bus shelter from the WPA era. I have noticed this one while driving by, but I've never really looked inside.
It's roomy. The columns on each side are impressive.
When I returned home, I lay in bed on the heating pad to deliver a bit of therapy to my always-aching neck. The moon was rising outside my window. It looked as cold and hard as stone.
3 comments:
How very Henri Moore. Sensuous, but cold and hard.
I love discoveries like that; Or rediscovering something from a different perspective. Cement chairs I guess are meant for lighting - a bit of respite, a short rest, then move along and on your way.
I always like falling asleep under a hovering moon like that. A perfect sky high period, punctuating the end of a busy day.
My fingers are walking like keystrokes on a laptop. Had I been driving on the super-information highway, I would have missed this posting. I am glad I decided to walk today.
As always, I find your writing and walking Awesome Possum. I like to say that a lot nowadays... Awesome Possum. My son says I use the phrase too much.
Pax.
Taufiq.
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