Share they the wind,
the sky. Share they a fumbly history
of the knocks and falters a city delivers
in the course of a morning, say, skittering
on thin-skinned ice. Share they
~Méira Cook, A Walker in the City*
I walked today, in spite of piercing cold. I’ll admit that two pairs of long-johns helped with that!
The sun beckoned me outdoors hours before I was to meet my friend for coffee, hours before I should have called my workday mostly over, even though I started work at 5:45, and even though I’ve learned that these urges, these times I need to move, are not to be argued with. An hour of pacing, of having my thoughts skip off the surface of Benjamin’s essay on Baudelaire, and it was clear to me that, whether I left or not, I would get no more work done.
So, I took the camera and my time.