The city is full of straight lines that tells us where to walk. It is full of people, crowds passing through the Metro turnstiles, waiting obediently at the sharp intersection corners. Red light, green light, a homeless person sleeps beside his paper cup and a sign that reads ” kindness is not a weakness”. A musician plays in the station. The museum where I guide is packed with people. The sky is grey wih winter fog. The cityis about waiting, hurrying up, standing isolated on the platform in the crowd. This is the university station so ten minutes before and after the hour, it is packed with youngsters in their chic or grungy clothes. Their backpacks, hunchbacks of the educated, jostle in the crowded cars. A city worker reams a wire down a manhole. Pigeons feed at the feet of a hero. Of all the faces slipping by, few make eye contact. Yet there is one who detaches herself from the crowd and even on this damp grey day finds a place, a time to sit alone. What is she doing? Meditating, reading, talking on her phone or texting? This one, apart from us all, cast up on the bank of this river of people.