I thought to myself this afternoon, I want to go see 'The Matrix Reloaded.' So I picked up a book to read during waits and walked out the door. On the way to the BART station, I thought, Wait, we're out of coffee. I should go to Peet's. So I bypassed the BART station and walked to Peet's. I bought the coffee, and thought Wait, I can still make it to a matinee showing. But I'm not going to make it unless I eat something. So I had a bite to eat, and then walked to the United Artists cinema in Berkeley. I looked at the show times, and thought, Wait, I'm twenty minutes late, not ten minutes early. I'll see it another time. So I walked to the BART station and came home.

I haven't walked south on Shattuck from north Berkeley for a long time. I used to live in north Berkeley near where Shattuck becomes Solano, and so I walked that route every day. I seem inclined to vivid memories recently, and the walk brought many of them. Here's the place where I lived during my first year of graduate school. Here's where I ate with Scott and Kathy when they visited me in California, after we took our trip to the old-growth redwood forests where the speeder chase scenes from Return of the Jedi were shot. Here's the stylish pizza place I passed every day, but where I only ate once. That was with Luke, before he returned to Maryland. Here's the French Hotel, with a man sitting outside, sipping coffee and singing softly in Spanish. Here's Black Oak Books, the first book store I visited in Berkeley. I stopped there when I was searching for housing; I was discouraged at the time, and certain I was lost, but the books (and friendly people with directions) cheered me immensely.

Here's one of the few buildings that used to be open when I walked home. It was a fast food joint then, a KFC, I think. Now the signs are gone, and the windows are dark and covered with graffitti. And here's Berkeley Espresso; they have wi-fi access, now. Here's the Berkeley Public Library, which was under renovation the entire time I actually lived in Berkeley proper. Here's a man playing a stringed percussion instrument -- a harpsichord? I know I've seen him before. Here's a man playing jazz on a keyboard; I've probably never seen him before, but it feels as though I must have.

And here's the BART station again. I see that often enough now. Time to go home and finish my book.

• Currently drinking: Red tea