walking is as simple as our minds, familiarly drawing ruts in our experience, make it out to be. a repetition, a means towards the multitudes of ends demanded by modern life. we walk to get from one place to another. life is categorized by destinations, milestones, landmarks.

yet - everything happens within the margins. existence is not as regimented or categorical as we make it out to be, obsessive as we are about quantifying, consuming, assigning value and discrete measurement to every aspect of our reality, our being. to walk, to engage in the repetitive, nonproductive act of putting one foot in front of the other, opens us up to a childlike-view of the world if we let it. taking in every part of our environment for as it exists in its absolute form, not simplified by our familiar schemas of naming or value.