I need to walk, make my feet tougher. They've gotten softer since I moved to Montana. No shoes. Walking down a black cement path with light poles on the right- they're like little pop up drones that look at me. White dog behind black iron fence ready to pierce. He reminds me of Tucker, that vicious one who braked at me whenever I walked to the pond. I was walking through private yards so I always tried to go unnoticed. I'd say- Brooke don't be afraid and she would tell me that she's not afraid. Zem. I told him that there were natives that lived in those woods and that he shouldn't be there. Good kid, bad judge of character. Find a forked up stick, I haven't just picked up a stick in a while. I never really sit on benches- the ones on the side of city paths. I don't think many people use those that often. Trying to sit cross legged, squinting in the sun with geese in front of me. You see more when you look straight in the sun and don't let your face constrict. In front of a line of house all made of ticky tacky... I'm in front of one of them that has wind chimes- put there to evoke a false aurora of calmness and zen. Just there for aesthetics. I want to stay no no no. Do do do doooo doooo dooo! Where were you? Oh, just on a walk.