Walking Manifesto

I wanted to find a new place to think, so I put on my walking shoes. With my vision set to stun, I saw a trail emerge. It was manicured, yet wore a coarse coat. A recent rain had carved deep grooves around its edges. I took a step; then, extrapolated.

I walked to know the trail. To know how long it took to finish in proportion to my pace. To know where my feet were meant to fall. To know when to fork and when to branch, or if it even mattered.

I walked to feel the trail. To feel my cheeks turn red with frost, then melt into a sunlit smile. To feel the itch of hidden ivy that lurked beneath each stump. To feel my lungs get heavy with fresh-scented breaths as they pressed against my heart.

I walked to create the trail. To create a moment to remember. To create a memory to forget. To create a reason to escape.

Time bends and space warps, but they’re really just the same. And so am I.