I took a long walk down a busy street, letting faces pass without looking. I let the noises raid my inner and took in the scents of city life. Wandering and wondering how the world became this way; it's so mechanical. Even me, walking down these paved cemented lanes am robotically fixated on getting to my destination. I then remember I have no real destination. I'm simply walking. I'm walking because everyone else around me is walking and I make the assumption that they're going somewhere so I too pretend my life is important enough to need me to meet some destination. But what if they're like me-- going nowhere--just trying to look busy and failing to look around them at all the life that is waiting to be discovered among the mechanical mayham.