10 Minutes Anywhere.

Sometimes better than anything, better than moving around, is just sitting in a place. One place. The world is always moving and sometimes when you are moving too you can’t see all it's motion and all it's glory. It is all just a blur.
The activity of a single pigeon is not enticing or consequential, nor is the pigeon noticing when you are darting pell-mell, helter-skelter. But when you are stationary and the pigeon's movement is a critical note in a symphony of activity before you the little things that escape your notice otherwise attain the utmost importance. The cacophony of one intersection, the raucous tempo of one street, the hollers and chants from passing vendors, teenage boys taunting each other and soliciting beautiful women, taxis and repairmen, drill bits against cement, squealing brakes and failing transmissions, daily chatter on Calle Media Luna, slightly removed by the anonymity provided by the bougainvillea-dripping balcony, hidden from the world bustling at a casual pace below me. The world which fascinates me, entices me and goes on with no notice of me. I feel a part of it while remaining distant, separate, silent and invisible. The pigeon comes back for another twig, building a nest beyond the crest of the rooftop. With a damaged wing he hops. A man pushes a cart with 3 enormous slabs of ice along the street in the mid morning heat. Passing him on the sidewalk a man heads inland with a catch of small fish draped over his shoulder fresh from the sea.
10 minutes in Cartagena, from any balcony, park or plaza, presents a similar menagerie of creatures and a feast of sights and sounds.
The taxis instead of horns emit a series of beeps that can only remind of one thing R2-d2. I look around and await the reply of C3po. 10 minutes anywhere if taken in quietly can present a world of observations.