New York
A walk in NY is like a walk in the woods - except instead of the whisper of the wind in the pines, you hear the snatches of other people’s lives. 12 floors below my bed is a perfect cacaphony of noise - jackhammers, horns, sirens, 4 am shouts, garbage can crashes - but slip onto the morning street, slip between the rushing people, and listen:
Suited man, loud, into a cell in the middle of the dark street: “You gotts be there - I am not standing in front of that judge with no authority…”
Taxi driver: “…(Arabic)… No shit! …(Arabic)…
Indian accent: “But she is the one who is intolerant of the ceremony…”
“The gum was all over Parry Street…”
“Well, why can’t you…?”
“It’s inherent, intrinsic, can’t you see…?”
“So I told him - no bathtubs - everybody wants showers. Besides…”