I ventured out for a walk. Earbuds pumped out music as I pounded the footpath.
I passed a small suburban shopping centre, houses, three childcare centres, housing development sites and workers, and, as I began to head towards home, many shopfronts as I walked down a bustling street shopping strip. Trams rocked past, car horns tooted and people wandered in and out of cafes.
I took it all in as strode on by, while Muse blared in my ears. Well, in one ear—I kept one bud loose for safety purposes. I am on the older side of life now.
It was the lush greenery of a garden that caused me to smile, especially as my left heel began to ache from the exercise. Pretty flowers, trees and well-manicured grass greeted passers-by and visitors to such a well-kept property. The garden did its job: it stirred me, invited me, lured me. My hand did hover near the gate, wanting to go in to seek refuge in the serene garden, or to go further, and look at what must be perfection behind the front door. But I gave into propriety.
And then, I finished my walk and arrived at my own front gate where I found a fresh load of dog poo on the footpath.