"Walking man walk. Walk on by my door. Well, any other man stops and talks but not the walking man. He's the walking man, born to walk, walk on walking man." James Taylor's Walking Man
"Early in the morning, risin' to the street Light me up that cigarette and I'll strap shoes on my feet." Sublime's What I Got
What I don't have anymore is the cigarettes. What I do have is coffee. And these early morning walks in foreign cities over cobblestone streets and through half deserted municipal gardens. I have an hour of stolen time while my three fellas are still sleeping back in the hotel. An hour of joy and silent discovery. An hour. A lifetime. A life. My life. Traipsing over sidewalks as many women before me have done. Savannah, St. Pete, Chicago. Moving backwards in time reading building cornerstones. Lovely. And then, as the coffee runs out and people begin to appear, turning back to my family, returning with new dreams and a calmness inside, already planning my next walkabout.