We might be in a bedsit at university or wandering the streets of the city at night on our own—when it occurs to us, with full force, how negligible a thing we are in the wider scheme.
A few years later, I moved to New York from Detroit, Michigan, and I started walking around, and there was a street fair, and I saw this postcard, and it was this painting.
It's easy to roam the streets with one's feet barely touching the ground, a bit empty while the sun continues to shine day after day after day stinging the flesh until a heavy rain rolls in to wash it away.