like to walk. I like to walk
quickly. I don't like to walk slowly. I don't like to go for
to wander around.
I don't like to walk slowly, because I can't. It
means I can, I am able to walk slowly, even very slowly, but
starts aching almost at once and soon this ache is almost
Anyway, I always have been walking quickly, although not
back have been aching. Maybe my body knew it much earlier than
myself, since very beginning, and that is why it didn't want
fast. And it did everything to make
slow walking. Thus I have never used to go for a
a walk means going slow. Fast walk is not a walk – there is a
contradiction between going fast and going for a walk… It's
interesting, it would suggest that my body was independent of
Either entirely, or to some extent. It made decisions and
inform me at all about them, nor consulted them with me. It
manipulated me. Of course, I manipulated it, too. No doubt. I
whether my body new about this. If it didn't know, this would
indicate I was not my body, and my body was not me. At least
extent. To what extent – I wonder… What I'm writing here is
really bizarre, because seems absolutely contradictory with
profound and thorough unity one feels with one's body. However
separation could be sometimes useful and desired. For example,
something happened to the body, then this would happen only to
body, not to myself – if the body got bruised, it would be
Yet not only this invisible,
hidden deep inside me, bodily imperfection was responsible for
eagerness to walk fast. My walking has been teleological by
have always been walking somewhere and for something, for some
reason. I have never been wandering with no purpose, with no
aim. Can one wander with no aim, no purpose?
Those who like to wander
around with no aim, aim at aimlessness, aim to reach no aim
. . . . .
. . And when they reach it, what they will do then? I
around quickly, but I didn't do that. Maybe it's a pity. Maybe
should. I have lost something, I haven't experienced anything…
I experienced something else instead, I haven't lost anything
That's the way it is, and we shouldn't bother about it . . . .
. . .
. . Each time I cross a street, at crossings, on zebra
try to be the fastest. The traffic light turns to green and I
I race. Usually I win, because most probably nobody races, so
knows this is a race. Sprint. There are no awards, no medals,
flags, no anthems. There is no frantic audience… Is this
this the essence of sport? . . . . . . . Then I don't race. I
fast, but I'm not interested at all if I overtake somebody or
somebody overtakes me.
Now, after so many years I
keep walking fast, though not that fast. It's normal. It would
abnormal, but fascinating, if I could walk faster. If I walked
and faster. If I could walk faster than if I rode a bike.
if I went by train. If I could walk so fast nobody could
notice me. I
would vanish due to such speed. I would go too far. Much too