I walked nine miles yesterday through nothing worth seeing, fields of sodden, drab rapeseed and one tractor with a dead headlight, and came home with my feet blistered and my brain scrubbed clean of that low, greasy hum it carries around all day. somewhere after the fifth mile the thoughts thinned out, then they stopped coming altogether, and what was left was my breath, the wet gravel, and a crow that followed me for half an hour for reasons of its own. God never healed anybody sitting down. he marched his people forty years through sand. the human mind was wrought inside a body in motion