A Walk That Speaks
Hello steemit community “Let's talk about a walk.” today
I don’t always plan it, sometimes my feet just decide before my head does. A walk happens that way, not with rules but with moods. One moment I’m staring at the wall, next moment I’m outside, and the air greets me like an old neighbor who doesn’t need to say hello.
I call it ambulatio sometimes. Latin, yeah, but soft in the mouth. That word feels like the sound of sandals tapping stone streets, slow, like time isn’t chasing anyone. I like how words can stretch a simple thing, make it look bigger. Walking is not just legs moving, it’s something breathing.
When I walk, even the smallest things glow brighter. I see shadows walking on walls like some strange creatures, dogs barking at the yards, little children kicking empty bottles. The smell of fried food comes out of peoples windows, and I’m not even hungry or famished but the aroma alone makes me smile. Silence follows me too, but it’s not empty. The road hums. Sometimes the birds cut the sky with their wings, and I think, maybe they’re walking above me, in their own way.
Funny how my mind travels farther than my shoes. I think of Rome a lot. Imagine me walking by the Colosseum, the stones older than my imagination. History breathing through cracks. Historia vivit "history lives". Maybe I’d stop, touch the walls, and whisper like I’m speaking to ghosts.
Paris also sneaks into my dreams. Not the loud Paris in movies, but the soft places. Beautifully designed little bridges, benches at the side where couples sit and cuddle, gardens with smells of roses and cigarettes at the same time. I see myself on the Seine’s edge, water moving like it knows things I'll never know and secrets I’ll never touch. People passing, nobody rushing, and me holding a piece of bread I probably shouldn’t eat but will.
Kyoto is another place my feet have never touched, but my heart walks there. I see pink petals falling, cherry blossoms giving the earth tiny kisses. Each step under every trees I walk pass feels like poetry, a reminder that beauty doesn’t need to scream or maybe make too much noise. Tempus fugit "time flies", yes, but not if you slow down.
Home calls me too. I think about Lagos, the shore where the water meets laughter. Children run barefoot, waves chasing their ankles. Sand sticks to everything, but nobody minds because the ocean forgives the mess. Or Jos, where the hills breathe cool air, and silence wears a crown. Walking there would be like shaking hands with the earth itself.
Sometimes though, the walk doesn’t need to be far. Even my own street has enough. A cracked wall with vines trying to escape, neighbors arguing about nothing, an old woman sweeping dust that will return tomorrow anyway. There’s beauty in that. Not perfect beauty, but the kind that makes you feel alive.
Walking with a friend changes the rhythm. Two steps falling together, words spilling out when silence takes a break. I’ve learned more about people while walking than sitting at a table. The path stretches, and so do stories. Amicitia—friendship—always hides in footsteps.
But walking alone, ah, that is different. Alone, it feels like talking with myself. My thoughts get loud at first, then they soften, then sometimes they vanish. I become just eyes, ears, breath, skin. No big plan, no noise. Just me being alive, and that’s enough.
I like how problems shrink when I walk. Something heavyweights settling in my chest turns lighter with every single step I take ASAP. Like the old saying, solvitur ambulando "it is solved by walking". Maybe not solved completely, but softened enough for me to carry without breaking.
The world joins you when you walk. Trees bend, streets listen, smells follow, animals greet. Nothing feels separate. Everything becomes part of the same rhythm. To walk is to remind myself I belong here. That rushing isn’t the only way to live. That a slow step can be as holy as a prayer.
So yeah, let’s talk about a walk. Or better, let’s not talk—let’s take one. Whether on Roman stones, Paris bridges, Kyoto paths, Lagos sands, or just the cracked road outside my door. It doesn’t matter. What matters is this: ambulare est vivere—"to walk is to live". And I choose to live, one step, then another, then another.
Cc,
@gertu
Upvoted! Thank you for supporting witness @jswit.
That's breathing deeply during a walk. It is very gratifying, I even accompanied you during your walk because I felt all the atmosphere that you have created when walking.
The mind is a great ally if we use it to our advantage. Can you imagine if we didn't have imagination? How many trips and conversations you would miss, without it.
Your walk has entertained me a lot, I liked accompanying you in those places, in silence and sharing sensations.
Instead of putting my username in your text, please put the contest link, so others can go directly to the contest link.
Thank you.