"Body by Whiskey." (on a t-shirt I just saw)

I'm wandering the streets of Brooklyn with my lovely bride when a thought crashes over me like a wall of water.
Who are all these people? Where did they come from?
When we set out in the morning there didn't seem to be a soul around. Sure there were a few people in the coffee shop and near the book store, but it didn't feel much different from my little burg on the plains. We visited parks, took in the Manhattan skyline, and got hungry. Since my bride hates to have me looking into my phone for directions, we try to navigate like it's 1992. Wandering here and there, moving further from our home base but getting no closer to a sufficient watering hole.
We eventually settle on a chicken and waffles place. She's never felt the desire to mix the two, but after today she's a fan. In the glow of fried chicken, cooked dough, and syrup, we head back out into the neighborhoods. That's when it hit me.
People are everywhere. And it's noisy.
Tall, short, foreign, domestic, in a hurry, in love, blasting music, zipping by on bikes, having drinks at cafés, and talking. Lots of talking as they overtake me on the sidewalk. "Did he have a French accent?" "Who smells so good?" "So then I said. . ." It's a cacophony of city noise. I smile to myself and continue on.
Another thought hits me. It's 3pm. I haven't written this week's newsletter. The smile gets serious. It's game time. Let's do this.
Enjoy the weekend!
st. Sigh.
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