Walk

I miss walking. That's the one activity I consistently do in New York. It's what I did in Prague. In Miami, though, there is no walking. When travel becomes a necessity, a car fulfills it. Even when I take my dog out, I get little out of it other than an escape from the house. I may as well have a teleportation device because whenever I move from place to place, the trip is meaningless.

Adventure is lacking in this world where "pedestrian" is missing from the lexicon.

Railroad Tracks and Runways

Air's wet with a cool breeze blowing. The sky to the east is cast with a gray blanket of cloud; to the north, a small window into the blue atmosphere pokes its way through. To the east, all that is seen of the setting sun is a golden strip that paints a few clouds a reddish tint. A masterpiece in the making.

A bird just defecated on my left middle finger.

And now a plane is swooping down to land while a train churns its way along its tracks, sounding its horn.

All around can be felt the quiet movement of people.

Kitten

A minute, shrill meow rouses my attention. I pause my music, push my seat back, and look out the back window in my room and find a horrific sight:

A kitten lays on its side, a bloody gash in its chest; eyes closed and mouth slightly opened, it lies perfectly still.

Right below my window there is a gray cat with a black kitten in its mouth. The newborn squirms in the older animal's mouth, clearly in distress.

Unsure of what to do, I bang on the window and scare the cat away. It runs into the backyard. When I reach the back door of the house, I see the cat running across the high, wooden gate with the kitten in its mouth. I bang against the door once more and the cat jumps over the gate to a neighbor's yard.

Time to face death.