Each morning I walk to the metro station and then each afternoon back again. For months I tried to walk on the footpath and not through the gardens which seemed to be the intention of many other people. But as the days added up eventually the rebel inside went what harm could it do the path has been forged long before I placed a tentative step into the garden.
The first time I wickedly cut the corner and ducked through the garden felt completely wrong and a little naughty. It was during Ramadan and I had watched the workers trimming the hedges in 50 degree Celsius heat with no water. I really should care that they spent hours trimming the bushes to fine perfection and I added to the track that will likely never be grown over.
Though; do we all forge our own paths when the presented ones are not to our liking? It’s only another 3 meters to go around this small little section cut into the garden bed but it seems so very pointless now not to trudge through it along with every other person I follow though or that follows me.
I would much rather forge paths in wild, amazing locations but this small section of rebellion reminds me of cattle pads back home and the side of me that has rebelled against authority for all my life. So each day as I walk through it I remind myself that I am a fairly head strong individual that does love to break rules, but just in a very small way!