On Tuesday I took the street behind the station. It adds ten minutes to the walk home, which is usually enough reason to avoid it. This time there was no train to catch, no call to make, and no useful excuse to hurry.
Someone had put a chair outside a repair shop. A dog was asleep under it. The afternoon light caught a row of mismatched windows, and for a moment the whole street looked as though it had been waiting to be noticed.
I arrived home with nothing to show for the extra ten minutes. That was rather the point. Some parts of a day can belong to you without becoming an achievement.