As I woke up early on one morning, I decided to head to the Starbucks round the corner from the hostel. I ordered a strong latte which wasn’t strong at all and took a seat by the window. I strategically placed myself so that as I spent some time reading, I’d look up just to do some people watching.
There it was on a busy Wednesday morning, streams of people walking into Starbucks to get their caffeine fix for the day. On the outside, strangers walk past with intent. Everyone seems to be so purposeful and fixated on getting where they need to be. There is a pace and urgency in each step.
I stop and I wonder, are New Yorkers always that busy? How different is life in comparison to Melbourne? Is a work day there the same as what it is as I observe these people now? Is it only different because I now have the time to sit back and look at life around? As if time for this moment were to move at half count while everyone is moving at a full count. In the ‘city that never sleeps’, is there ever a quiet moment?
Quiet time in New York sounds like an oxymoron. At my slow pace, I go on to read a few more pages of each book, Have a little faith by Mitch Albom and the Bible by God. In the city where dreams are made, a world of glitz and glam, the stage, in the noise of everyday, what motivates each stranger? In the city where dreams are broken, a world of ‘could be-s’ and ‘one day’, reality, I wonder what’s the life story of that diner chic or that homeless person I walked past on the way here. Have they been deafened by the noise or left behind?
