I step out into the wave of strange faces and fragrances. These faces seem ugly and sad. They all have stories but the ugliness overpowers my interest to know their stories. I do not want to be part of their hustle every morning. I would rather miss the train and set sail elsewhere.
But these faces do not cease to haunt me. They beg me to listen to their stories. I do what I know.
I walk away. But the fragrances follow.