You are aware of the beat of your feet on the street. You walk a bit faster. You think about food, a crusty roll with thick slices of onion that you buy, sometimes, from the newsagent on the corner. You think about sex, you think about books, you think about friends, you think about family, and about family friends. So, you think about mortality, you think about all these people everywhere and you think about society, you sort of think about society. You feel a misanthropy. You think about films, about tv, about work. You have some thoughts about colour, about music. You are watching the pavement move under your feet, you think about chewing gum, about cigarettes. You think about technology, you think about money, you have to go to the bank. You think about games, you think about fame, you think about trees.

 

You look into the window of a fast food restaurant, there are people sitting in high stools in the window, you think about smell, a sour smell, always the same smell at this place. Perfume. Aftershave. The aroma of the pink flowers on a particular shrub. You think about your childhood home. A group of people are standing outside a bar drinking beer. They are wearing football shirts. You think about religion, about god, gods, God. You think about meditation, you think about walking meditation. You think about Christmas. You think about shopping. You think about shoes.

 

You think about pain, you think about unbearable pain. You think about love, you think about happiness. You feel the brightness of the sun and you smile. You think about embarrassment. You see a woman crying as she walks from the train station. You think about vastness, you think about time, you think about your garden. You think you will cut the grass this weekend.