Walking
is something I am truly missing here.
That sensation of closing a door behind you,
and just let your steps align on the sidewalk,
one after the other.
Walking
-for weird individuals like me that at the age of 21 still refuse a driving license-
is the dynamic articulation of life.
In the morning,
walking smells like coffee,
either because of the thermos you hold in one hand
or because of the café that is directing your steps as a compass.
During the day walking is the mirror of your agenda
(and of your attitude towards those tasks)
and is priceless to sit down
and listen to all the rushed leather shoes of bussiness men
to the neat march of high heels that fight their daily challenge to gravity
to the dragging of students' sneakers,
hesitant between the school bell and the thrill of skipping classes
and to the varied and blurred footstep of the city.
Eventually,
in the night walking sounds like your thoughts,
and the distances that will wear (you) out depend on them.
Every love story will cost you many soles,
every friendship will have its drunky night walks,
every fight will have its streets as witnesses,
every important dinner will require its kilometers for digesting
and no good song will be remebered without a night wandering.
For the moment
I will settle for a song and for some training to prepare my legs for future destinations.
