"These are just old stairs." I mumbled under my breath, half disappointed at my misadventure. This man has once again tricked me into following him in his vagabond wanderings.
"Did you say something?" He looked at me and smiled. I timidly shook my head quickly to indicate a no.
Yes, I am a bit scared of him, may be I am scared that he should not feel that I am not his little kid anymore and I have grown up. That is my Father, ever enthusiast, the eternal nomad and an avid walker.
I guess it is like an addiction for him, he just keeps on walking through streets and alleys. As a kid he would take me with him and I had to run, gallop and skip to catch up with him. With time the addiction passed into me. Winding through those streets, with a half fear and half thrill of getting lost, only to find a new way back home. It is a funny thing, in the end, you always return back to home; a bit grown up, a bit broken, a bit tired, but then you are home.
"We can go in the hous…
