Motion

The street itself is alive.

There are no painted lines and no signs. Raised sidewalks are as navigable to drivers as the street below. Each one knows the size of their vehicle to the millimeter, sliding into every and any space available as they meander in the direction of their destination. Through the stream of vehicles weave motorbikes, bicycles, and carts. People take up the rest of the spaces. Some linger on the sides to chatter or sell items to passersby. Others fill in the cracks, filing in between vehicles and bending at the waist as they avoid collision with the side mirrors.

It looks like absolute chaos. This is not the world from which I came. The stripes and lights, bike lanes and sidewalks I’m used to serve a specific function and put a guided order to our lives. I’ve lived in a world of Google maps predictably leading the way to arrive at my destination perfectly on time. I hop in the car and turn on Spotify, disconnecting from the world and choosing my own beat to sing along to.

In contrast, the use of this street is universal. No matter the method of transportation, somehow everyone moves together. As I watch, its flow is so alluring. Like a stream, the current rushes in some parts and slows in others. Some places widen and some narrow either from design or incident. The lack of predictably keeps people in their toes. Everyone is alert, as keenly aware of those around them as they are of themselves.

I am a disturbance to the flow. As we walk by, people notice we haven’t gotten our sea legs yet. I am a lake girl who hasn’t navigated the rivers before. I feel the rhythm and hear the calling of the beat, but I haven’t learned how to dance.

How long will it take? Weeks? Months? Longer than the time I have here? All I know for sure is there is much to learn. I want to navigate the roads and be a part of the song being created. There’s already a full orchestra, but this guest musician is jumping in with hopes to contribute to the beauty of the piece.