Dodging pedestrians, running under stoplights. Avoiding salesmen and political activists. Walking the streets means navigating: direction, inertia, chance.
The sidewalk is saturated with symbols that parade like in a conveyor belt. Some are seasonal: pumpkins on the streets, Christmas trees. Other’s not: like cops.
Sometimes, I find myself walking hurriedly across rain or snow. Other times I am leisurely strolling, enjoying my time. Sometimes overexcited, others melancholic. The street transforms itself to suit these moods. Hidden…during other emotional times.
I move through swarms of strangers, like a fish . In the mornings I swim against the tide. In the weekend, it changes, party-goers and tourists in swarms. Generating friction, in my walk.
My destiny is determined by the tension between the stoplights and my path. The sight of one, in the distance, is an ultimatum: I must change, fast.
People are unpredictable objects; they can stop or turn in innumerable ways at any time. Those walking on the opposite side are equally unstable– I make sporadic eye contact with them, trying to read in their faces any immediate intention of blocking my path.
The grid, constant intersections, innumerable possibilities for combinations.
Portable Identity 