He walks decidedly straight, keeping a measured, unhurried pace, his face taking on a blank, smart look. At 11:30pm, through an immigrant patch of town by the train tracks, going for a walk demands extra considerations. Does he put the headphones on full blast or will that drown out any would-be mugger, encroaching from behind? How deep into the rougher parts does he commit to walking through? The idea is to enjoy himself in what should be a thoughtless, casual pursuit. One of the few old world acts that - in principle - should come easily, impromptu; a nighttime walk.
He heard about this place from friends, none of which had been there themselves. He crossed the street, taking notice of idling cars with tinted windows and faraway shouting. John lowered his volume and didn't rush across.
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