Something is always happening, even on the quietest days and deep into the night, if you stand a while and look.
The less important you are in an office, the more they expect the happy smile.
There are no amateurs in the world of children.
All human existence is a trick of light.
People hurried past, the others of the street, endless anonymous, twenty-one lives per second, race-walking in their faces and pigments, sprays of fleetest being.
To be a tourist is to escape accountability. Errors and failings don't cling to you the way they do back home. You're able to drift across continents and languages, suspending the operation of sound thought. Tourism is the march of stupidity.