'I Can See For Miles'

I have myself a new self-inducted routine; instead of getting to my floor by elevator, I now go by the stairs. I have been doing this hitherto, since last Monday. I've always lost count the number of floors which I pass on the way up; so I'm not going to try again today. It doesn't help that the floors go by an unconventional progression, as indicated by their buttons in the elevator (on a panel where bubblegum and coins are often seen together, a makeshift mechanism for making certain floors more visited than others - I marvel). It seems that I'm staying on a level higher than I actually am every single time I walk up.

In the stairwell itself, I am struck with recognition of some of the floors, by the impressive line of cacti along the wall of one apartment, the discordance of various exercise equipment and miscellaneous objects in another, a bag of (I presume) discarded shoes, the view of a rabbit cage (and a very vague outline of the rabbit), an altar (or two) in their auspicious red, the contrasting emptiness of some uninhabited apartments, the rare plaques which would indicate the floor and apartment number, the sweet outlying surroundings of my own level - which I pass.

I need to do this.

Because sometimes I miss my walks alone to that middle-point of town, where I'd wait for my bus home. I realize that now - I'm not thinking that much anymore, since I spend almost half of the journey home daily with my eyes shut - I'd be out cold. Because I haven't been sweating or (really) breathing in a long time now.

And of course, because I need the exercise.

(" , )