Walking in the morning sun, past the contours of trees and rooftops, emerging from the haze, focus on the pavement. My mind is blank. There's just the faint notion that I should be enjoying the warmth, the light, the smell of wet leaves, etc.

However, the sense of being one with nature and its seasons doesn't come to me. Why? Ah, there's a sensation: shame. Followed by a thought: I can't experience all this without naming, categorizing, and trying to unravel it.

Fully concentrated, I search for names of plants, streets and building styles, to match everything I see. Meanwhile things keep presenting themselves in increasing variety, until I focus on the pavement, or rather the cracks inbetween, where there is nothing, although I don't dare check it.