Walking always clears the head, and however often you retrace your steps you'll find something new in the landscape. I don't mean the bigger changes, like a new store, or a gap where a building used to be. I mean the smaller ones, slight as a bird's footprints in the snow.
Perhaps you'll look in a different direction up or down, or through a gate normally closed left ajar, and spy something you've missed in all the other times you've gone by. A sign, a view down a passageway, a graffiti tag or some artfully self-righteous wheat pasted credo. I'm not what you'd call a paster fan, but even their earnest or ironic phrases signify a small part of the streetscape history. Small markers are endless. Phrases and barely glimpsed sightlines slide into view, flicker, disappear.
I don't know why I collect these kinds of things. It may well be the sign of a trivial mind. Still, I like extending their ordinary lifespans. They'll stay a little longer.
When they accumulate, on a day like today, they subvert meaning altogether. A tiny Toys in Trouble pseudo bathroom sign barely glanced across your consciousness. Fair enough.
Minutes later, I walked by a warehouse where a couple of workers were scratching their heads at a sign that was recently pasted where they worked. They looked at it - it made no sense to them at all, and why would anyone have put it on their building?
On familiar ground, I passed by the sanitation garage, right by the entrance where there are a bunch of chairs for outdoor lunch breaks. Maybe I never looked inside at the right angle before.
The more you look the more you'll find a whole archaeology of purpose here.
I don't know who felt Second needed the words of Caio Fernando Abreu but I'll enjoy their brief stay.
... it is infinite now."