as I was rushing to catch the train, while putting on my gloves, an inebriated stranger said to me, “you walk the walk of love.” i ignored him as I searched for my transit ticket in order to validate it in time. then, i began to think of his ambulatory remark. what does it mean to walk the walk of love? does the season play a role? the bees buzzing or the snow skipping? how about the time of day? the sun soaring or the skyline submerging? or is it solely in the eyes of the observer, distant, speculative and under the influence of, um, some song in his head.
though i don’t think it was/is my style of walking, if anything i walk the walk of feigned urgency: always in a hurry to get nowhere.