She loved to walk.
Mostly she loved to walk in unexpected places, letting her legs choose their own direction.
She had seen more secrets in her city this way than she had thought possible. The graffiti tucked on the underside of a bridge, a drawing of an embrace dated 1937. An eternal love note. The pillbox buried beneath the undergrowth that had become a refuge for bats, their activity at dusk inspiring awe. The grotesque tucked around the back of the church, visible only when she leaned back and looked up.
They were everywhere. Those chance encounters with wonder.
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