In the Time Before, I took walks by the river during my lunch break. Not the pleasantly curated asphalt trails, favoured by joggers, but the behind-paths, the under-paths, with trees and rocks and mud and sinkholes and hostile squirrels.
Now, in the Plague Time, I work from home, far from the river. I take my walks in the cold blackness of the Canadian pre-dawn, along the side-roads and alleys and those pedestrian bypasses used only by dog-walkers and schoolchildren.
I have learned to hate motion-sensitive lights. I like walking in the dark. Being blasted in the face at random by a floodlamp is a declaration of war.
