It was a good day, or at least it was perceived to be a good day. Truly it was just a day, but there was a perception and that perception was both applied and lived within. Somehow that made it better than the truth.

They stepped out, walked a few steps, then stretched a bit. Today was theirs to conquer and they were going to conquer it in the only way they knew how; one step at a time. Of course this meant that the walk of the morning was slow, but at least it allowed them the time to think and to ruminate upon that which had come to pass and that which may come to be. There was only one way to find out what would come to be, however, so of course that would mean they would need to proceed to the future, though always remain in the present so as to see what it was that would come to pass and then leave it in the past as the present kept on flowing to the future.

Each step taken was one carefully considered and each step taken was one with the determination of certainty behind it. There was a path that needed to be traced and followed as often as it was created and this was one that was theirs and theirs alone. Of course it looked like all other paths and perhaps when viewed from a certain angle, it was, but that was not what it actually was. No, it was a path of their own creation and the appearance of the mundane only helped it become much more inconspicuous. It meant that there would be no bothering on the walk and therefore the thoughts that were ones that they considered as being worth consideration would be able to flow through with something resembling the greatest of ease.

And so on their journey of walking they walked and traveled a distance further than a short distance, but not as a far as a long distance. There was plenty of sights, though of course they all seemed like something that was not really outstanding, save for a few differing details and shapes and sizes, for although everything was all there and there were differences that could be noticed, the walk was through the heart of suburbia and didn’t provide anything that could be considered worthwhile; not at least to their mind anyway. They had seen it all before and it was something they didn’t care much more at this point in their life. What they cared for was deep introspection and the serious, heavy topics that inspire thought and creativity.

Perhaps they were kidding themselves and merely engaged within a façade of who they thought they were rather than who they actually were, but that was fine as there were other things to think about, for it was a good day for thinking much in the same way that it was a good day for walking.

The time it took to write five-hundred words: 06:43:71

Just kind of flat writing. Not sure what I was going for.

Written at home.