General

Once out of the subway I navigate by intersection and aromas. Otherwise it would be impossible to know where I am. I move along in the thick crowd, mostly several inches to a foot shorter than everyone else. I can't see the bright shop signs, or the buildings to orient me - only backpacks, coats and hair. I am frequently jostled, but then I don't weigh much more than a child. With the smell of coffee I know I need to turn right next and start to weave my way over. The crowd parts around a newspaper dispenser but I fail and am instead left smooshed up against it for a few moments, my smart cream suit brushing up against the traffic dirtied glass. Unlike a child there is no Mom or Dad to pull me away and instead I must inch sideways until once again I am in the current. I veer into the next street to the aroma of samosas. If I can get close enough I'll buy a few; some for lunch, some to take home. But I can't see the cart, once again I am adrift in the moving bodies...