Everyday and ordinary have taken on new meaning over the last seven months. They no longer mean normal or average; normal doesn’t exist anymore. There is talk of a new normal, whatever that means. Average, ordinary, usual, familiar; oh, how we long for that.

The everyday practices that we didn’t have time for now take precedence. Old routines give way to new routines. Different ruts and trenches are ploughed. Some of these too, are soon abandoned, left to gather the detritus of our seemingly never-ending days, left to be forgotten. Others are nurtured, established, curated. They have purpose. Given a reverence. Which in turn is bestowed upon us, marked with our very bodies and actions.

Walking, moving and placing one foot in front of the other, became a sacred act. Over the course of several months and until the proposed end of imposed lockdown, I would have walked over 800 kilometres, 500 miles.

I WLD WLK