My truck wouldn’t start. Forced to depend on the reliability of a friend, I skimmed a ride to work. When he asked how I’d get home, I conveniently spouted, “I’ll find a way.” I walked.
Some may read that as a failed attempt at transportation. Truth be told, he played unwittingly into my master plan. Some time wandering the dusty, smog-filled back alleys…cough, I mean… crowded, loud… cough, I mean… chaotic, crumbling… cough, I mean… … … pristine, ideal streets of the Egyptian capital city did indeed (despite my sarcasm) act as odd, faithful teacher in the art of foot jockey appreciation. Billboards begin to make more and less sense. New shops and restaurants simply appear. Values rearrange and people must be engaged or ignored.
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