You know how some people go about their morning walk at break-net speed with a pair of headphones presumably blasting loud dance music into their ears?
Or maybe it’s a podcast of one of their favourite radio shows?
Or maybe it’s classical music or jazz?
Well, when I go for a morning walk I prefer silence. As I spend most of my life listening to the sound of people talk, I quite like the bird sounds, as well as the underlying rumble of traffic (I live in Surry Hills after all).
And for me, the morning walk is more of a stroll. My heart-beat hardly ever rises. So for me, it’s not about the exercise, it’s about the moments of silence, I guess.
I also love looking around the neighbourhood, as Surry Hills is a remarkable place.
There’s Beryl, the woman who lives mostly on the streets who I recently discovered was Stolen Generation. She was sitting on a bench on the park.
There was a group of men standing outside the methadone clinic on South Downling Street, waiting for it to open.
There was a group of men and women standing outside the Bourke Street Bakery, waiting for it to open. We all have our addictions, eh?
Over in Moore Park, the spring light was reflecting the overnight mist on the clover.