walking by sidewalk cafe

The best part of her day was the few quiet blocks she walked from the subway stop to the office. She went in early and knew a walking route that was not full of scurrying people. That was when she did all her serious thinking. Maybe it was the river she walked beside – a reasonable facsimile of nature to accompany her on her stroll. That was where . . .

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “walking” or on some topic suggested by the photo.


Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

4 thoughts on “Walking”

  1. Walking slowly down the stairs, I felt the overwhelming sadness weighing heavily on my heart. I just found out, via an early phone call, that my favorite uncle had passed away early this morning. The last time I saw him, he was a specter of the man I had known. I found comfort in thinking that he was finally at peace.

  2. There are different types of switches. Some can be turned quickly and some need applying some power to smoothly switch them into another condition. Switching from an intense day work to time with family, friends, home and hobbies, might be one of such switches. And nothing is better than a relaxed walk in order to turn this “switch”. It has just the necessary power to do so. And it is adjustable too. For a harder switch a longer walk.

  3. Walking through the neighborhood is immensely enjoyable and productive. While being active physically, I enjoy the beautiful scenery. The body and several of its muscles benefit from regular neighborhood walks. Because the scenery is representative of creativity and hard work, it activates good thoughts.

  4. Walking in the evening metamorphosed from a simple exercise in health , to a full blown fashion show. It was long skirts with short tops , a high bun with a lilac flower stuck into it , and a pair of sandals on one day ; to flared bottoms with those silly flowing kurtis , which billowed endlessly in the evening breeze , and a pair of kolhapuris . Now , which serious walker walks in kolhapuris ?
    It was an excuse to parade one’s sartorial preferences and entire wardrobe . The fault lay with the choice of home . She had chosen to live amongst fields and mooing cows , where a simple breeze became a wind , rustling the fragrant basmati ears and whoohooing in a ghostly manner at the windows . There were no discos , red carpet events , or parties . What would she do with the endless array of clothes she had bought .
    Go walking , of course .
    It became a daily spectacle. Old women bitched and rubbed their arthritic knees ; masculine jaws dropped mid -sentence when she passed by , gliding on a cloud of expensive perfume , her alabaster skin in great contrast to her blood red lips.

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