All things that occupy space matter.
Hundreds of feet walking from sidewalk
to sidewalk. As a matter of fact, they become
a unit of measurement: how many feet
does it take to enforce traffic? How many more
to become a queue? These feet only fulfill
belonging: how Gil Puyat wakes up
in the morning with nothing but
pedestrians. And pollution, of course.
They never seem to stop coming & going,
and it doesn’t matter anymore
whether a gaze observes this matter.


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