The Corridor

Saturday, June 7, 2025 | 2:28 AM – 5:00 AM 13°C | Waxing Gibbous Moon

The birds were already chirping when I stepped outside, 2:28 AM, and I remember thinking, They’re getting up earlier. Somewhere I’d heard that the birds in Los Angeles have started chirping an octave higher, just to be heard above the human noise. That stayed with me. I see how the world is waking earlier, working longer hours, just to keep up.

I took my usual gear: weighted vest, podcasts queued. Come Follow Up was first. A line landed hard: To build Zion, we must be united, as one. I passed the insurance building just then and wondered who I would have to become to fit in there. What parts of myself would be trimmed down, diluted, or pressed into shape? Insurance is so unlike me. But then again, so was religion, once upon a time.

Later, Talk Polish filled my ears. I studied new words, something about medicine and money. The Polish word for fever sounded like the Polish word for hot: gorący.

I walked in silence after that.

Something large crashed through the undergrowth, maybe a deer. Bullfrogs pulsed nearby. A baby rabbit sat in the grass, still but alert to my presence. Then the path turned unfamiliar. I had found a paved trail I had never noticed before, even though it curved right behind that insurance building. Trees lined both sides. There was a pond, some tall grass, and the whole place felt like a corridor behind reality.

I passed a bench. On it sat a bicycle helmet, abandoned or forgotten. It felt symbolic. Someone had traveled here, then left something of themselves behind.

I thought about my job at the shelter. How I could do more. Be more. Not just as a worker, but as part of something collective. That podcast line was still echoing in my head: united, as one.

By the time I reached home, it was five on the dot. I was calm. Tired. A good tired.

Before heading in, I thought of the benches on that new trail. No bars to prevent lying down. Just long, flat wood, open to whoever needs it. Most city benches are designed to say, don’t stay. These felt like they whispered, rest if you must.