feelin' like writing

i seem to have this vivid attention towards little stuff that goes by. and an almost maddning interest in details, gestures... stuff with little importance..in the great scheme of things. Like the smoke swirl in that mid 40s sad guy, or the slow, descriptive way the gipsy florist's girl wond her black curly hair in a bun, letting her rich hips show in the tight pair of jeans, or the joy on the little gipsy boy's face while looking at his sister being carried in a carriege by his father - the beauty of that smile upon that grey, dirty poor assembly of faces ... all this while the yellow cab passed by. with me in it.