It’s a quarter away to eighteen and the sun’s making its way to the horizon. I make my way out of the house and onto the streets, towards the seas or maybe somewhere else. I walk towards the main road and then take three steps back to go ahead to the alleys behind, take another two steps and trace them back to take the main road. There’s uncertainty in my feet today that take steps of restlessness. The sky’s gone from orange to pink. I’ve reached the park and for a minute I slow down, giving my racing heart a chance to slow down too. It smells of wet grass and ice-cream. I sit down in the centre of the empty bench, assuring myself single occupancy. I cross my legs over and, take two deep breaths and place my right palm over my chest. Still racing. You can see the creek from here and the lights dancing on it in graceful choreography. Perhaps today, we don’t meet the sea. Perhaps today, we meet the creek.