A Walker's Guide to the Nearest Shop

When I go walking – y’know, walking? – it’s in my feet. There is the shoulders, the swinging maybe pocketed arms, okay. But it really is contained within my shoes - the feet, y’know? So I was thinking, do I think more whilst walking, footdropping my way to logical revelation. Is it a train effect, cha chum cha chum cha chum, some steam roller mechanism aware and functioning, operating a physicality thus employing a greater potential?

Y’know, the reason may be the sitting, the laconic unrealised existence of it all. Is there not some bone, I might be wrong, in the lower spinal region, but I don’t think I am, which is evolutionarily suggestive of a natural opposition to that bodily position?

Maybe you define yourself in what stride you perform – more likely betray. Too aware, not enough, secure, the opposite, with drink, stoned. But more: those traits you did not grow out of, some sort of personality willing tendons, gliding joints, deciphering passageways, negotiating, abandoning, moving on, getting home – y’know, home? Is that not what each step is in payment off?

But man, I do hate walking.