Walking without a destination

On Sundays I leave the house with no plan and turn left whenever I feel like it.

It sounds like nothing. It isn't. A walk with a destination is a walk spent arriving; a walk without one is spent noticing. The blue door on Canning Street. The cat that lives in the launderette. The way the light comes off the canal at four o'clock in October.

Three rules, loosely held:

1. No headphones.
2. No map unless you're properly lost.
3. Stop for anything that makes you curious.

I've lived here eleven years. I'm still finding streets.