21 August 2026 – I step off buzzing Main Street, still intent on my Proustian challenge: to bring “new eyes” to familiar landscapes, and in so doing reward myself with a “voyage of discovery.”

I am just one alley east of Main, here at the corner of E. 22nd, but it’s a whole new world. Even as my eyes take in that Vancouver Special on the alley-corner opposite…

my ears register the big difference. Silence! My ears hum with silence.

I am now un-buzzed, and I prowl on up the alley with renewed interest.

Small details, in this stretch of alley, on this particular day.

The awning-covered table & chairs behind a commercial building…

offering employees (so I hopefully imagine) somewhere to take a break…

life in the alley, with two women on the balcony and the young man below all suddenly distracted by a crow’s raucous call…

and the crow himself.

I don’t see the crow…

but I do see his shadow, thrown on a building wall across the alley.

I turn east on E. 21st Avenue, and marvel at how old-fashioned, how peacefully residential, it still is — with vine-shrouded walkways that lead to wooden-frame homes behind tall hedges…

and climbing ropes coiled on the sidewalk…

an invitation to explore the tree from higher up.

I turn again, north this time on Sophia Street…

and think for a moment about Sophia, goddess of wisdom. How badly our world needs wisdom!

The street delivers, if not wisdom, at least plenty of peaceful charm. There is even a whole block with a dirt path rather than a paved sidewalk, guarded at one corner by Mountain Ash…

and at the other by an explosion of sunflowers.

A bit farther north, a happy (albeit wooden) child high in a tree, no climbing rope needed…

and then I’m face to face with Tea Swamp Park.

The name evokes the Labrador tea plants that used to thrive in this boggy stretch of land. Now, drained and firmed, the bog is a small park, a place for people to thrive. Two teens sit on a bench, comparing notes about their mothers (yes, I eavesdrop), while a young woman strides by, carefully balancing that flat of eggs as she walks.

Far distance, a basic but well-used children’s playground; medium distance, the community garden with its allotments; foreground, a stretch of grass, where a mini-drama is being repeatedly played out.

The dog, again and again, fetches the orange ball, drops it in front of the woman, and then bounces & quivers to get her attention. The woman, again and again, briefly interrupts her scrolling to stretch out one hand, pick up the hurling stick, and send the ball flying. Happy woman, happy dog.

Beyond the park, some prayer flags in a doorway…

and beyond that, a time-out nook for pedestrians, complete with chairs, plants and a curious little table.

I walk under yet another towering Horse Chestnut tree.

Look!

All those spring “candles” are now turning into fall conkers.

Finally, finally, I am about to say farewell to Sophia Street.

And to Tattoo Legs as well. She and I have been playing tag for blocks — she walks faster than I do, but I catch up at every red light.

My own legs tell me it’s time to go home. So I do.