I take brisk walks in the sunshine. I let the sun warm my face. I move my arms effectively. I walk fast. My hips sway. I could do this professionally, I sometimes think. Be a professional walker. A racewalker, that is. I could walk all the time. I like walking. It helps me think. So many things pass through my mind when I'm walking: I should pick up the laundry; what should I have for dinner tonight; I wonder if Javier Bardem received the postcard I sent; I wonder if he'll reply this time; maybe I shouldn't have put so many Xs and Os on the postcard. You know, the usual things people think about.