Walking was the same thing as thinking to me. Just a fundamental aspect of existence. It wasn’t so much the movement specifically, though that certainly helped in feeling a sense of accomplishment. Really, it’s the sense of exertion, moving muscles. I walked not out of enjoyment or to improve my health, but out of pure need. It was mandatory.
When a bird slams into a window and plummets to the ground, what is your reaction? I might laugh, but I always feel bad about doing so afterwards. Birds weren’t created in an urban world, nor did they create the urban world they live in. They were doing what they always did, it was the world that changed.
I wasn’t the kind who had a vendetta against windows, though. Windows had their purpose, and life without windows would be dire, but I guess that’s from a human perspective.
On the sidewalk a fair way ahead of me, there was a dead bird. Now, sure, that bird didn’t die from hitting a window, but there was a large office building nearby, full of windows at that. Anyway, it was a small bird, a pigeon or something like that. Pretty fresh, if that’s a word you want to use to describe a corpse.
A kid was walking towards me, wearing a baseball cap. They stopped next to the bird corpse and bent over to look at it. I was still about ten feet away.
“Kinda gross, yeah?” I said.
“It’s sad. Why did it die?” The kid turned up to look at me. A young boy, no older than ten. I wondered why he was walking by himself.