There is something about the masses of people and faces all around that makes one think a little more deeply.

In many ways very similar to the unknowing wad of paper over there spiraling around endlessly because it is caught in the corner by some gust of wind.

The motion never stops and no one ever seems to get to where they are supposed to arrive.

Finally when the day is over and it is time to return, the same motions and masses reconnect and cross-over as if for the very first time.

The old bearded man with the crooked hat plays his accordion like he has never done better before.

Better run more quickly before the train departs for good.