Each step is a passage to safety. One can't step on the grass. One repeatedly passes over the danger to safety. There are endless wrong directions one could take. Only a few correct ones. And one must myopically focus on one's feet. This path is the correct way, picked out by the mysterious wise ones who have long since passed. This is the way through the chaos, through the meaningless.

22 steps from the driveway to the back deck. To where else can paths lead? It's the trip more than the destination that really matters. Perhaps a circle.