Last week as I wandered aimlessly through the city centre, I carried a coffee in one hand and my camera in another. Although my walk served no real purpose, I took random black-and-white photos of random things along the way.

The original plan was to walk with nothing. Just to walk. No earbuds, no writing — nothing. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

I need to have some purpose. Doing nothing is torture. Even sitting in quiet meditation serves a purpose. And while walking with nothing is purposeful in itself, I haven’t gained the discipline to try.

Not yet, anyway.