I'm moving around; doing stuff. I can walk. I can even run.
My feet, they haul me Round the House, They hoist me up the Stairs; I only have to steer them, and They Ride me Everywheres.
If I can walk, I'll play.
you got two feet, Sethe, not four." he said, and right then a forest sprang up between them; tactless and quiet.
If I see three oranges, I have to juggle. And if I see two towers, I have to walk.
Walking . . . is how the body measures itself against the earth.
In my seventies, I exercised to stay ambulatory. In my eighties, I exercise to avoid assisted living.
You take for granted that you can walk. You do it every day, and then suddenly you can't walk, and you have to remember, 'How did I get out of this chair and start walking in the first place?'
It's not going to be enough, until I get out of my chair and walk.
One step, two...three...Soon she was in front of Aeron, smiling at her success. "What was that?" he asked. "Walking." "Took you so long, I'm officially fifty years older." She raised her chin, pride undiminished. "Well, I didn't fall.
Walking is magic. Can't recommend it highly enough. I read that Plato and Aristotle did much of their brilliant thinking together while ambulating. The movement, the meditation, the health of the blood pumping, and the rhythm of footsteps... this is a primal way to connect with one's deeper self.
It seems possible to give a preliminary definition of walking as a space of enunciation.
