The Walk
(I)
Words spoken while strolling: three parts carried off by the wind, three parts remembered by the moon, the remaining four, lit up by the streetlamps, one pool of light after another.
The best conversations are not endless streams of talk, but walking along together and suddenly, both stopping at once,
gazing at the same night sky, with nothing needing to be said.
(II)
The greatest
is when two people pour their own moonlight
into the same river.
The most precious thing one person can give another is time.
In this noisy world,
those evenings spent walking together are the gentlest moonlight I have kept.
(III)
Thoreau said: 1
If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer.
The one who walks is not the one rushing somewhere, but the one who follows the drumbeat of the heart.
Give time back to time. Give you back to yourself.
The ancients walked in communion with heaven and earth. We walk to find ourselves again.
(IV)
The shape a city takes in your heart is not determined by its landmarks, but by the person you walked it with.
Those winding roads we traveled closed the distance to a heartbeat, and were all drawn into the most secret map within.
Those who can walk together are those who can share solitude: not needing to speak, not needing excitement, just two people whose silences happen to be on the same frequency.
(V)
A walk is a tenderness that does not chase the clock. The road is slow, the words are slow, the heartbeat too is slow; only memory quietly quickens its pace by a few steps.
Some words cannot be spoken sitting still. Walking along, they simply fall into the wind and are picked up by the moon.
I break time in half and give you one piece of it.
Footnotes
-
Thoreau, Henry David. Walden. Macmillan Collector’s Library, 2016. ↩