The couch was stained with cat piss. It was also falling apart. After we moved it into an *ahem* undisclosed location, we kept walking.
It's so easy to get caught up in one's own little life, which usually consists of routines that we purport to hate, but feel lost without. We'll circle the globe to assure ourselves that we aren't trapped, but we can't be bothered to walk around our own corners to see what lives past the high street.
I'm still new enough here that I appreciate the feel of my feet atop the pavement.
I took pictures of some graffiti that had been etched into the cement. And a snail. He was an excellent model - he had no problem posing for as long as I wanted him to.
I stopped by someone's gate to smell the flowers. I took more than one breath before moving along.
There was no reason not to.
It was good.
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