Fountain near the Park Street T
To while away an hour, an afternoon, gazing lazy at the currents and tides of the human flow. To daydream back stories — the old suspendered man with the smoke-yellowed beard lost his job a year ago; the woman with the eyelashes, the young man in ankle-stranglers, on his way to meet a girl who isn’t his girlfriend. To hear crumbs of conversation, phones or friends. To scope for mondo babes. People-watching is one of the great pleasures of living in an urban setting. And for the biggest bustle, the most multiplicity of form and story, our readers head to THE FOUNTAIN NEAR THE PARK STREET T, where vocal vendors, tourists bewildered, Bible-thumpers, buttoned-up politicos, and the city writ large jostles and passes and moves through the city.