Around two years ago, back in my comfort zone, I often took a walk on Sunday mornings with my then housemate, Acay. Much to his disagreement that we should jog instead of walk, (in addition to waking up at 6 am on Sunday mornings!), we could not deny that those walks proved to be something of an escape from our daily routines spent at our workplaces, surrounded by static cubicles and robotic tones of behaviors.

It was a perfect escape as we chose the right path to walk. And I don’t bother to put the words “most of the time”, because as far as I can recall, we always walk on the perfect tracks.
Those tracks belong to green grass of open fields lying right in front of us, amidst the breezy winds as whispered by old trees of Portsdown area. Often, there may not be gigantic branches of leaves, but large houses with impossibly spacious yards, where we see ourselves rolling while giggling, recalling the long-gone joyous childhood. Or maybe there were only small houses, and not flats, but they have sunflowers arranged to the nines, and kids across neighborhoods calling and shouting in jovial moods to each other.

Yes, the scenery of natural beauty unlikely found in a country often known for its tedious and boring skyscrapers. A perfect escapade on weekly basis within walking distances. And by now, the vivid greatness has become one perfect memory.

As I decided to bid a temporary goodbye to my comfort zone, and settling in my supposedly-home-country, I have never realized the great impact of the memory. As much as I dismiss the zone, I couldn’t help recalling the fresh air we breathe there, or even barking dogs surrounding me, prompting me to always take cautious moves whenever I see these inhumanely-proclaimed men’s-best-friends. Until now.

And just now, those memories evoked me again, with a different backdrop.
Here I am, in this chaotic city, staying in a walk-up flat right in the heart of the city. What started as simply trying to buy today’s paper, I found myself walking towards a street filled with shops, eating places, traffic jams, bakeries selling breads with jams, video rentals, and air pollution. Yet, I kept walking, and as I looked above, there it was. A few dried branches waiting for rains to drop by.

Hardly any green leaves, hardly any friendly people apart from aggressive drivers, hardly any grass apart from asphalt.

But I’m sure I’ll miss what I’m having now in near future, as much I miss those walks two years ago. When I part with these densed atmosphere, I will long for, miss, and eventually, cherish the moments.

The assurance is, the memory lingers on. I keep on walking.

ps: the images were taken during actual jogs … eerr … walks (according to Cay, again! hahahaha!) on those lushful areas.