Yesterday I left the house with my keys, a half-charged camera, and absolutely no plan. The evening had that soft, coppery light that makes even the familiar streets look briefly secret.
I followed the sound of a train, then a dog barking somewhere behind a fence, then the smell of someone making toast. Three turns later, I found the old footbridge by the creek. It is still there, of course. I had simply forgotten how to get to it.