The purpose of each walk is to walk until something happens. * On the first day, I headed north, under trees and through the alleys. Dogs began to rush to their fences, pawing and sniffing but never barking. The reason was beside me all along, a coyote quietly matched my pace. * On the second day, I headed west. It was evening and the sun was peeking through clouds. I expected it to set behind the hills, but, curiously, it seemed to stay at the same angle to the horizon. I realized I had left the city and the country road I was on was rushing quickly under my boots. * On the third day, I took a grand rectangular route through long suburban blocks. Gradually, it seemed, my stride lengthened. Eventually I was looking down at roofs and over houses into backyards where children were playing. * On the fourth day, everything seemed normal at first, but I slowly realized as I passed each door, it opened. Women opened windows; children opened gates. Men stopped their cars and trucks and rolled down their windows.