walk

With the office so close by, I'm into more walking than my usual taxi riding. It's especially invigorating, given the fact that several of my clients have their offices close by.

Of course, given the oppressive sun, I'll probably darken to match my usual black polo. Or, with the sudden downpours, I could get soaked and get sick. But all that's okay, really. I feel somewhat healthier and even entertain the notion that I may be losing some weight.

I am a brisk walker (as my poor wife can attest, having to play catch-up from a mountain or two behind) because I usually have to be somewhere at a given time. But nowadays, I add a little extra time so I can actually look around, view buildings, watch people and observe the odd little patches of emptiness that mark the spaces between Mini-Stops.

I am a non-smiler (as my friends can tell you, when I respond to a greeting with a dismissive wave) because the street isn't exactly the best place to catch up on life. But recently, I've tried actually replacing the grim nod and the curt wave of the hand with a half-smile and eyebrows raised in delight.

Today, feeling like a character in one of those interminable novels where absolutely nothing happens, I walked from my home to a client, less briskly and somewhat smiling as my cigarette fought the wind to survive.

It's my new relaxation technique, in leather shoes.