January 2, 2024:
Hefty lady rudely has her feet on the chair opposite. Crowds mill. Thin grandmother with died red-brown hair wears her shades up top.
Young men in hoodies: the Urban Tweaker pantomime of cool. Crowds mill. There's a line at the Information kiosk. Hefty lady leaves, returns with a plate of cake.
Tall girl with smoothie-cup-and-straw checks me out. Closely. Yes you're pretty but I'm too old for you. I'm finally although reluctantly resigned to that objectively ridiculous societal constraint.