PAUL:	"An active line on a walk moving freely, without goal.  
	A walk for a walk's sake."

	Given the possibility of any number of equally occurring events, 
	I'd rather be walking.

	Ah, yes, the game's afoot, off on a perambulation, taking the air, 
	doing the funky chicken.

	That's me, a pedestrian by avocation.

	Traipsing the streets of Old St. John's.

	The benefits of a pleasurable stroll are various and many, it: cleanses 
	the mind; invigorates the moribund bod;  and informs those of curious 
	disposition.

	What a world opens itself when we take the time to look, when we don't 
	rush from one place to another !

	Politely refusing a lift back to the office after a sumptuous yet light 
	and refreshing chicken curry lunch at the Malabar Gate of International 
	Flavours on Thursday afternoon, I hoofed it back to the studios along 
	the footpath that traces the outline of our embarcadero, out on the finger 
	pier of perception.

	Of course, you notice the lolly-gagging layabouts, the halt, the lame, the 
	mangy copulating mongrels, the ripped bags of garbage, the overflowing 
	dumpsters, the taxi drivers exchanging tokes between cabs drawn up nose 
	to tail and side by side.

	But you can see so much more than common tawdriness.  Look for the common beauty.

	Oh, the golden dust sprinkled through the last summer green and first autumn 
	brown, red, rust and fuschia in the South Side Hills Forest.

	Sit on a harbour stanchion, you can see the colour change before your very 
	eyes - more marine magic.

	The harbour bustles gently as off-shore activity salts the stew of our port 
	life, once more asimmer with Hibernia in the offing.  The raucous cries of 
	the sailors and their sweethearts on shore fill the blue air.

	The last gasp of tourists unsuccessful in obtaining summer fares to the 
	island for Cabot celebrations in June straggle across the harbour apron 
	looking forlornly for photo opportunities that the folks back in Cambridge 
	will recognize.  Cape Spear, most easterly point in North America.  Mile 
	Zero, The Trans-Canada Highway begins here.   What a long strange trip that is.

	They're looking for what they think they can't find at home.  Oh, but they can.

	On this one day, forego the ring roads and expressways, wave goodbye to the 
	malls, thumb your nose at the mega-stores ... this one day, celebrate the 
	hike, explore your home town, take your feet and something you love for a 
	trek downtown.  Open up, Canada.  And, keep on truckin'.