I walk to college and home again by different paths. There, over the crest of a hill, along the narrowest of provision: the edge of a curved blade. And back, around the side of the hill, along wide pavements: the blade’s face. There, the direct line, taking my life in my hands on the main road. And back, along the scenic route, taking my time through leafy neighbourhoods.
It is a routine walk, a rhythm to my day. It does not have to be just functional. Today I was arrested by the different quality of the light, early morning and mid afternoon, and moved to respond.