I have a habit of looking at the ground while I walk. Someone told me this is sign of introspection. I don't know if I would verify that claim as I'm often looking at my feet as a means to not trip over something. Perhaps introspection is a more succinct and diplomatic term for overcompensation for a case of clumsiness.
I tried very hard to rid myself of this habit while I lived in DC. When I rode the Metro into town to go to work, I still had about a mile to walk from any of the nearest stations. Even passing by the same brownstones near Dupont Circle or treading up 14th Street, there was always enough local color to keep me interested day in and day out.
My Idealist temperament predisposes me to big picture thinking, so making an effort to catch the details seemed like a good idea. As I began to hone in on the details, I started to appreciate the city more. Instead of being a place that I tolerated due to my employment circumstances, the District became a place that was colored with hundreds of coexisting stories for me to wonder about while I forgot my intentions and stared at my feet.
Even so, my scope migrated from toes to knees-to-nose. It might extend to rooftops if I'm looking at houses. Rarely, if ever do I notice the sky. Except for tonight, I suppose. Because tonight I looked skyward and I noticed bats. Several of them.
I love bats. I'm so glad my neighborhood has bats to eat up all the insect that try to snack on me. I wish I could've come home home and turned on a nature show about bats, but unfortunately, OPB does not cater to my whims.