Then come, my Sister! come, I pray,
With speed put on your woodland dress;
And bring no book: for this one day
We’ll give to idleness.
William Wordsworth, To my Sister
Thursday afternoon, after lunch, was as busy as I’ve seen Calle Hidalgo, which cuts across town. There were kids out of school, the lunch crowd heading to or from their destinations, dogs, dog walkers, single-lane traffic creeping behind the basura truck and folks darting in and out of their homes and apartments carrying their trash bags. The brain had to be capable of either single focus or multi-threading all the information that came its way while carrying on conversation with friends who are soon to depart. Then I was past the Parroquia, onto Aldama, and into my neighborhood, where all was quiet, except for the lone cuatro-moto.