Because I could not catch the four-legged caterpillar that I intended to get on after leaving the many-legged caterpillar underground, I decided that a long walk was the most optimal among my choices. It was too late for the naive town buses to roam around. They were afraid of the dark. I set my foot on the road, then, and, midway, the sky began weeping. The soft, cold, and wet fingers touched my arms and my neck. I only had the short-sleeved shirt on, and a pair of shorts. The rhythm of taps, my steps, and the energetic music playing through my headphones gained a new harmony in the air of the night. I was alone, and my steps were restful. I saw houses. I walked among them. I saw walls. I stayed without them. The walls protected the homes behind curtains. I did not wonder what was inside. But there, I sensed calmness, and I seeked beauty. I walked on, nonetheless I had to. I shouldn’t disturb lives, and I couldn’t find what I seeked. The long walk, though, was the most optimal among my choices.