Wednesday, September 30, 2009
The shiny aluminum siding of the cart rattles his brain as he traverses the corners of NYC. Who are the people that serve him the falafals, who dish up his lamb and rice, what are their stories, where do they come from and how have they found themselves on Park Ave, Lexington, Broadway and the rest? He walks past them everyday, conducts business with them at least a few times a week but knows nothing of them. To him, they are the unknown, the storied question marks, those everyday parts of his life that he never takes the time to look at and consider.
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