Morning in Brooklyn

As dawn rose over Brooklyn this morning, this stretch of Fulton Street felt almost like a Wild Western set. Two strange young women accosted me at one point and one of them accused me of the crime of recklessly walking past her without admiring her ass out loud. Her friend looked on with slightly greater seriousness, and said her feet were aching from walking and could she and her friend come "chill with me?" She looked at me beseechingly.

I declined with regret. And walked on. A couple of blocks along Fulton, I realized I needed a coffee and a roll, and so I stopped at the perspex window-turntable-serving hatch of a deli. This allowed the two women to catch up with me. By now they had acquired a young man with eyes like a cat, who narrowed his eyes possessively as he glanced at me, then looked away. He spoke far too loudly for the time of day.