Number Walk 11,773

888 is the beginning of abundance.

This wander is rich — I can feel it.

Turning the corner, 222 appears. It tells my mind to relax.

No plan is the best plan.

“But what if I go too far and can’t find my way back?”

Just when that thought comes, I meet 999.

It says, “None of that matters.”

A blue sky above, and a squirrel walks across a tightrope in the air.

444 — all the souls are here with me.

777 — I’m always this lucky.

I run toward the next intersection,

look left, look right —

I feel it — the road I love is right there.

A car passes with the license plate TRY–1111.

Yes, this is a brand new beginning.

A butterfly passes beside me, spinning twice in the air.

4444.

I start to sing.

Making up a melody as I go —

singing with no holding back.

A man sits on a bench, watching the scenery.

In his eyes, there is a meadow.

And on the road, a girl,

singing, laughing — so full of joy.

A car passes with the plate 666.

But my eyes don’t follow it.

They stay focused on the sound of my own voice.

Joy reaches its peak,

then slowly begins to dissolve.

I realize I’ve arrived at a wide road,

where planes take off into the sky —

climbing, then settling into steadiness.

And just like that, my peace returns.

Quiet streets.

Black and white trees.

A garden I can’t take my eyes off of.

Flowers glowing,

sending out a soft, quiet kind of happiness.

A closed street.

Time to go home.

The final sign I see says:

1212 — rebirth.

I’ve changed again. Just a little.

888, 222, 999, 444, 777, 1111, 4444, 666, 1212 —

another number walk.

Only this time,

I’m in another country.

Every walk,

I always see numbers lined up just for me.

Always.

I find myself stepping along the cracks in the sidewalk.

Or being visited by a bird,

a butterfly.

Same walk,

different languages.

Different lands.

The houses tucked in the mountains and the balcony plants — that’s Taiwan.

The vending machines and smooth pavement under a clear sky — Japan.

The endless grasslands and neat little houses — Canada.

And people.

An auntie rushing to live her life.

A man on the phone, voice rising.

A little dog wagging its tail,

eyes only for its human.

A bird perched above it all,

watching.

And me,

watching them.

No matter where,

people carry their worries.

But when love finds them —

just a small moment of it —

their faces soften.

Worries always come to an end.

And every walk eventually leads you home.

So go — wander

in a world painted by the soul.