I'm watching this older man negotiating his way up the stairs, pausing every few steps to catch his breath. He's almost reached the top where a new challenge awaits him.
At the bottom of the stairs the woman who could be his wife is looking at this old man's back while she chews on a large sandwich with tomatoes falling out.
Suddenly feeling like I too am being watched from somewhere near, I turn my head to see a young stylish woman glancing at me just before she embarrassingly looks down at the ground.
Just beyond her I see some unshaven teenager with a slight belly carrying a guitar case staring at the young woman who was looking at me.
At any moment in time there is a web of visual interactions criss-crossing the platform as the crowd collects and then disperses again.
How far back or how far forward this unpredictable broken path of connected people watching other people extends is impossible to measure and not easily imagined.
There might be ten people connected this way, and then none, and then more than fifty, and then just a few again.
The more crowded it is the more connections there are, increasing and decreasing as the evening progresses, oscillating more and less, damping out until there is not a single soul left in the world.
