A current of people. Non-Stop. Constantly. Always in motion. Some diverting into stores, others lost to the alleys. Replaced. Instantly from who knows where.
Goods for sale. Splayed out right there on the sidewalk, a makeshift table, or a platform jury-rigged to the back seat of a scooter. Every day different stuff in different places. Earings and bracelets, flip flops, umbrellas. Sweaters and kids back packs. Magnifying glasses and hair brushes. You name it. If it's not here today, it will be tomorrow or one block over. Five and dime quality. Some better. Claiming real estate outside a chic boutique or a high end department store.
Homeless, virtually absent. In all my walking, I've only seen two (that fit my stereotype) and always in the exact same place unless it's raining. Then to the protection of a close by eave or overhang. Unobtrusive, never asking for money. It's the buddhist monks who beg. In khaki, grey or orange robes, bowing and chanting. With shaved heads and bronze bowls.
The maimed and grossly disfigured. Faces scared with burns or features absent. The limbless. And the even more heart wrenching. Fetal development gone horribly wrong but born anyway with the breadth of life. And all of these are selling. Gum, toothbrushes, combs.
And the current moves in, between and through all of this. Mindless and mindful. All the time
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