Walk down any street and you’re likely to pass by dozens of these, if not hundreds or thousands. (Okay, almost any street.) There are plenty at eye level, and some stretch up to heights that can’t be reached without some sort of ladder. Maybe some even need elevators. There are more of these things flattened against the ground, shallow lines trodden upon by the soles of shoes. Some may even pass you by, if traffic is moving at an amicable pace. Or maybe you pass some by, if you’re trotting at a nice clip.
You’ll walk past the street corner when you reach a street intersection. You’ll step over the corners formed by several concrete blocks that stretch out across the sidewalk. Maybe you’ll be in the shadow of corners that flourish on a particularly decorated skyscraper, or at least a corner or two that taper into the eaves of an awning. No doubt you’ll walk by someone who’s carrying a boxy bag, or even a box itself, when at least one corner is in view but in some instances maybe you’ll spot all eight.
Who knew there were so many corners following us on the surface of this round, spherical, corner-less planet?