"I wandered home by unfamiliar streets. There was no point in trying to find a taxi at that hour, in that suburb. In any case I was in the mood to walk. I wanted to be alone and take my time and move through space at my own tempo, not the forced pace of a car or mass transit, yes, I needed to feel the distance, the physical, mental, and personal space, that separated me just then from my own house, and for once I’d lost the craving for speed, with its bland reassurance that nothing happens while you pass from one point to another - as if the points themselves were all that mattered and were not in fact part of a single, identical, self-same, monotonous place, a place you can never leave."
— Grégoire Bouillier, from The Mystery Guest