It’s Saturday and somewhat gray, a portent of more storms on the way. Keely led us up 7th to Duval and down around the Publix plaza at an easygoing but steady pace. Most things are in stasis — the Senior Center is closed, Publix doesn’t open until 8 am, Golden Corral is closed but Sonic is open. Far to the east of me, the mayor of Jacksonville has re-opened the beaches.
People are rioting for us to “re-open” our state but they can still get Sonic and Taco Bell and then go surfing, so I’m not sure what they think they are fighting for.
I take worn paths at several points on this particular route, places that people have walked enough to wear down the grass. These cut throughs are nearly invisible from a car, and I thought this morning that being a pedestrian in an automobile-oriented world is a little like living in another dimension. I know of a life cycle in this city that is not run by stop lights or street signs.
These paths are a constant but they change in ways paved roads to not, shifting due to water run off or plant overgrowth. A couple of them are very short and even marginally up-kept (because if you do not cut the potato vines back, then they will win, that is simply a fact) but even so trees expand and bend and break. One path was obliterated by a falling oak, although the tree was eventually cleared away and the path beaten back into existence.
There are the paths cut through fences, used and re-used until the fence itself just gives way.
They are convenient, these cut throughs, and mark how forgotten pedestrians are overall in our treks though the urban landscape.