Walking is seeing

Case Maclaim

The stay inside unless you have to get out society that we are living in since, well, an eternity, it seems, has made me re-appreciate the walk. Saturday I walked to my sister's house, she wasn't there but I wanted to drop something off (not Covid-19) for her birthday (which she was celebrating in the countryside illegally but I wasn't going to report her).
I decided to walk along the railway; this is to say, the street parallel to it (the railway itself is safely hidden behind a high wall).
First I crashed a girls only party. I waited, courteously I thought, until one of the girls or should I say women had finished uncorking the champagne. There was no POP, she just screwed it off.
Next I passed a few people sitting in a parked car. Were they under the influence? It looked like it. The car was smallish for the company in it. A naked body part out was sticking out of the window. I hope it was a knee.
On my left hand there were housing blocks that would be called projects if this were New York. Huge graffiti attracted my attention. I remember biking along here before, but I never took the time to actually study the 'street art'. I read this was part of the If Walls Could Speak project.
This is why Amsterdam is sweeter dan New York: in this city graffiti is commissioned. Walls are allowed to speak. Still, I wondered how the people who lived here thought about their street art.
Next I stumbled upon a fresh prefab joint, still in its plastic bag, innocently lying in the grass. I picked it up and put it in my pocket. Here's another difference with New York: I have never seen soft drugs lying around there; here I often do. An indicator for a superior standard of living, I guess. It's not the only reason I am glad I'm not living in New York anymore.