The black, block woman symbol on the door of the women's restroom at work is missing legs. Apparently the legs wore off--I'm guessing--from so many people pushing that panel to open the door. I notice it more often than I should. I try to avoid touching that area.
I have found that drinking green tea is something more than just pumping caffeine into my body. Coffee has a pleasant taste, I enjoy drinking it, but I find it takes me longer to finish my tea than a mug of coffee and I like that. I like slowing things down and for some reason tea is my fix. I still like coffee but haven't drank a cup in days, haven't drank a cup of full caffeinated coffee in months. I don't miss the coffee breath or that lingering coffee smell.
Desire paths intrigue me. It's a term described by French scientist, philosopher and poet Gaston Bachelard in his book The Poetics of Space. Desire path: A term in landscape architecture used to describe a path that isn't designed but rather is worn casually away by people finding the shortest distance between two points. We've all seen them. Some stretch across park grounds to the nearest water fountain, some from campgrounds to the bathrooms, from the back door to the garage, or like I saw today, from the parking lot to the entrance of Starbucks. The desire path I saw was short but evident: the heaping mound of snow that created a barrier between vehicles and sidewalk had a section of beaten down, mucky snow stamped with foot prints. Like pregnant ladies, hybrid cars, and Ugg boots, the minute you become aware of them you begin to see them everywhere, every day. You'll start seeing them, these desire paths, and come spring they'll be everywhere. They are created by people who have a mission, a desire, a place to be and who want to fill that desire quicker than any asphalt or concrete slab can.
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