Walking the streets in this mad city.
At least the evenings are cooler here.
I trundle along, feeding the strays.
Lots of fuzzy young kittens. All of them are very skittish, but they usually give me a bewildered, but challenging and bold look before they bound off. I left food for many of them, but I was only able to get one cat to come to me. She was a tortoiseshell. Her face was perfectly divided right along her nose into a tabby pale orange and a brownish flecked chocolate. She was a tiny creature with protruding hip bones. She was the only vocal cat I encountered, and gave me a chirpy meow.
So, in my whole life, I was meant to be at this one place, at that time, to give food to this animal...If that was my purpose than it was worth it.