Walk

Waling out of my house today, I began to think about recofrding my 8images into my mind. Never before had I done that, well, maybe once in a while, but barely ever. So I decided to utilize my brain's capacity to accumulate memories and practice the accumulation process somehow. So I was just walking out the chain-link fence of my house, and I saw the neighborhood. The sun was out in winter-style, slightly bleak, but still enough to shine on the sky and make it blue. The neighborhood somehow looked more colorful with the extra sunlight 0 I was able to see a yellow, a white house across teh street. I moved my head slowly from left to right as I observed the neighborhood with increased attention, and then decided to begin my walk to the right, headin gtowards Kimball Avenue. As I walked on the sidewal, a pine tree caught my eye, still green in the very middle of winter. I was looking at it as I walked, and then a movement caugh tmy eye on the upper area of my vision. I raised my eyes right as a flock of birds swooped out from over a house rooftop, they were al pigeons, some white, some gray, but from all of them I could seetheir white feathered bellies. They looked magnificent, fklying all in unison. They swooped in front of me, over me, and then were quickl yat my back, having turned left back towards the houses. I followed their trajectory, and I saw them flying fast and beautifully, directly towards the sun. They helped me notice the sun, which I saw mostly as a bright circle with very dark, even black, surroundings, and yellowish tint across the whole sight. That particular scene of the pigeons flying directly towards the sun was incredible. I hope to keep it in my mind for a long time.

I saw the birds swoop in front of me and back to the houses again one more time, and then I lost sight of them. I heard the sound of another pigeon cooing behind me, but I could not locate it, partly because I had left my glasses at the house. As I resumed my walk to the library, I noticed my step to be easier. I was directing less conscious effort to ignoring the pain and compensating for weaknesses, and was instead finding that my walk felt more similar to the walks I used to... make... before the accident, when I walked briskly and happily, sometimes hurriedly. I did not feel in a rush at the time, but my steps managed to be longer and more balanced. The constant itch to support my step with the cane just because it was in my hand proved with every few steps to be more unnecessary, and I quickly found myself carrying it horizontally in front of me while walking quite comfortably.

As I walked south on Kimball, I remember a man hurrying inside Lucky Vito's Pizzeria's green entrance, protruded on the street. Right after passing under the Bloomingdale bridge, I looked to the other side to see if it was safe to cross. There was a car coming, but it very kindly gave me the right of passage to the other side. When I reached the other side, the bus that going up north stopped, thinking I meant to board it. I kindly declined, since I was going south, and the driver then politely gestured goodbye with a tip of his hat. Luckily, I was now on the side of the street where the archery place that had caught my attention was located. I thought that since strength in the arms and shoulders is needed to string and/or shoot a bow, that it might be a good exercise to follow for my therapy. Besides, it seems like an interesting extra quirk to learn, and useful if I were to find myself involved either in a battle between native primitive tribes in Africa, or alone in a deserted area with only a bow and arrows, and nothing to eat but small fast animals, impossible to catch by direct contact.

Anyway, I went to the door and saw the sign, but decided not to ring the bell. Instead, I asked a man outside who was just de-icing his car tires whether he knew about the archery place, and he said he did, and that there was no one there. He told me to look them up online as "bow archery chicago", so I said I would and thanked him for his time. I returned to the sidewalk and built momentum walking again, still briskly and comfortably. Well, relatively. Now that I think about it, I recall myself, at the beginning of my walk, still in McLean Avenue, reciting an affirmation I crafted for myself at that moment. "I am happy now that I am running. I am happy now that I am running. I am happy now that I am running!" I did not say it out too loud, but I talked with conviction, and imagined my feet moving as if they were running to the library, on the same path I was taking now! Of course, I didn't actually run to the library, but I did walk in a very improved manner! That's pretty cool :).

Anyway, afterwards I saw a couple of things on the sidewalk where I passed through. A sign on a door that said "Your Life is My Life", in big white letters over a black background, meant to catch attention and with a theme that reminds one of urban violence. In smaller print it said "Removing violence from the streets starts with ME." I thought I liked that sign. I wasn't exactly sure what it meant... was the resident of that house a violent person, attended some kind of workshop, repented, and decided to post the pre-designed sign on his door to declare his conversion to non-violence? Or is the resident a non-violent person by default, and his intention of posting the sign is to deter other non-violent people, thinking that they will read this sign, have guilt inspire them, and repent themselves?

Anyway, I kept walking, and saw a plastic grocery bag with some pieces of paper inside it. It was right where the cars passed by, so I thought that it shouldn't be there. I walked towards it, lifted it up by one of its hangers with the tip of my cane, and threw it on the sidewalk. Then I kept walking. I slipped slightly a few times over the ubiquitous ice, and was impressed by some of the layers. Over some low layers of concrete, there sometimes was a very thick and smooth layer of ice. I attempted to break it with repeated thuds of my cane against it, but I couldn't even make a dent in it.

Well, later I continued walking until I reached the library, and I sat down on a table opposite to a pretty girl with a Mac with a back cover that looked like this:

She made it herself, she said, so that's pretty cool :) With black shelf liner and an exacto-knife. Now the girl put away her Mac and is reading a book with a lilac cover and black letters.