Coming from work, people pass me by with hurried steps.
I’m walking slowly.
They want to save time. Don’t want to waste it, ’cause the sofa is waiting.
I am walking slowly. Thinking, singing, whistling, feeling my movements, watching, enjoying. There is no hurry. If I don’t reach that train, it was not mine anyway.
Just watching the flow of my thoughts, I am walking slowly, as people pass me by.
(The picture is from http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Menschenmassen_am_Times_Square.jpg)