Spring has released the gravel onto the streets, the people from the buildings, and even some of the plants from the ground. There are some strange items that have been abandoned: an orange peel; one child’s mitten; a toothbrush that was likely once white but now nearly covered in mud, the bristles sticking every which way; a roll of toilet paper. The fresh air brings out all kinds of people, apparently carrying – and dropping – all sorts of things.
A lone observer, wandering along Waterfront and through the Exchange, will see everything …
Red-faced joggers, bundled and brave. They are somehow maintaining a conversation despite their quick breathing and the chill in the air.
An elderly couple move at a brisk pace. Both are wearing long coats, his darker brown, hers tan. He’s wearing what looks suspiciously like a top hat, although it’s warmer somehow and floppy with age.
A younger guy walks by in a hurry. His braided hair swings lower than his elbow, and it’s thick too! He definitely has somewhere to be. Could be anywhere.
The observer sees it all, considers each item, and wonders about each person’s past, content despite not knowing. She walks and the thought occurs to her: any one of them could also be an observer.