Each person in the crowd moves as if unseeing hands drag them this way and that, pulling their eyes to one thing and then another. They respond in predictable ways, each of them with a goal to achieve for the day. But underneath that is free will, the ability to truly choose their own path. Sometimes I engage them in conversation just to wake up the part of themselves that is capable of taking charge, making choices. Then they're off, back on auto-pilot, the most dangerous mode a human being can slip into. In that place one could be anyone, or perhaps no-one at all. The people flowed like rivers, never stopping for obstacles but swirling around them. On those wide avenues with wilted trees, their leaves curled and blackened in in the October heat, the buildings towered on each side. A hundred years ago Fleur expected it was pretty, the golden light on the sandstone architecture, built in the days when curves and design weren't considered superfluous. Even the street-lamps were dreamt by an artist, built by an engineer following the the teachings of a scientist. On days like this, crammed in with more bodies than she could count even in a photograph, she tilted her head to the sky. The empty blue gives her the strength just to walk at the pace of the crowd and bottle her mental claustrophobia inside her chest. The crowd is a river of people, everyone moving in the same direction. There are only joyful faces as she headed toward the park for a moment - nature to fill her chock full of adrenaline pumping happiness.

A lost child wailed for his mother, a man frantically searched for his missing dog, shopkeepers screamed out offers on the top of their voices to attract customers and customers desperately tried to bargain for the best possible prices. This was the Shandaar market, a place which was always drowning in the sea of people. Not a single empty place could be spotted between the stalls. Some held a hand against their forehead to shield themselves from the sun, others made fans out of newspapers or magazines.The sun mercilessly shone down upon the market. Beads of sweat glistened on everyone's forehead and many faces turned red due to the sweltering heat. The salty odor of sweat mingled with the nose tingling aroma of spices and the sweet smell of flowers coming from the florist's shop. All of these smells mixed together and gave the market a rather unique scent, which hung in the air from early morning to late evening. The store was wedged between two taller buildings. It looked squeezed, as if the neighbors were closing in. The sign was old, some letters had become illegible in the peeling paint. But the window was clean and the artifacts on display were clearly antique. There was no theme to them or color coordination and they were crammed together rather than artistically arranged. Fleur pushed the door and a bell rang. It was far longer than it was wide, almost a corridor with shelving spanning both sides. It was pristine. Then with some kerfuffle an old gent emerged in tweeds that were of the same era as his wares. Fleur loved shopping. She loved the perfumed, air conditioned mall. She basked in the attention of the sales staff and pawed over different fabrics and textures. She would try on new boots and hats, get a free make-over and then head to the spa for a manicure. The garments she brought home would often never be worn or maybe worn once. She was a shop-a-holic. It was a compulsion to her. She would rather eat porridge for a whole month so she would have more money to shop than eat a proper diet.

And suddenly, she found herself awaken from the daydream. Raina, the marine biologist from before was calling her name, and when Fleur was back in reality, she gave a quick smile. Raina asked Fleur to accompany her in her job today; she had to pick up fish food from the warehouse and feed the little critters on shore. It wasn't as if she had anything else to do, so the pale woman nodded an agreement and headed off with the blue-haired lady to the warehouse. The walk wasn't far, but it sure was lengthy. The entire time, Raina mouthed off about the ocean and how it was in a state of decline. While Fleur wasn't the best when it came to showing emotion, she definitely enjoyed having someone to feel comfortable around. Eventually, the two made it to the shore and together, scooped some fish food onto their hands and into the sea. The food drifted around for a bit before being snapped up. The procedures rinsed and repeated a few more times before all the fish food was gone.