1,452 kilometers. It didn’t look that far on the schedule: bus, plane, monorail, overland train, bullet train, overland train, walk home. And yet, 15,492 steps.

Transitional spaces occupy more of our time and energy than we realize. Spending time at the airport, any airport, is spending time in transition - you are between places, between times, between motions. All the while, your energy is being taken from you in slow exhalations as you stand in line, fret through security, and run between gates. The steps add up.

In public spaces, we lose our individuality in incremental, staccato bursts of accidental indecency fostered by the necessity of moving through the mass of humanity around you. A bump here, a nudge there, a forgotten “excuse me,” soon reduce us to a single focus: get to where you are going. The steps add up.

Even the walk home, free of crowded public spaces, offer slim respite. What should be familiar seems strange and alien; roads you may have walked ten thousand times seem removed, like looking through mist. Baggage weighs more than its individual pieces of kit, stones trip you and empty cans become tangled between your feet. The steps add up.

But I’m home and I’m done walking. For now.