An old woman is eating an orange as she passes me, and the air behind her is sharp with citrus. A cluster of teenage girls approaches, on their way to school. They're more awake than I am at this hour, laughing and flailing their arms as they talk. Then they begin to sing. It's a song that I don't recognize, but they sing it well. I smile, but try to hide it as I get closer. They move aside politely as I run past.
I move through these spaces too quickly, but I remember. I will return. I'll pause at the streetlights, remember the flowers, remember the trees. I can still be surprised, if I want to be.