They are fewer these days, older and quieter. Regardless of actual size, they seem small and unglamorous. They mix with hordes of children en route to school in the morning rush and female office workers in gold chains and too much perfume. Later on, there are plenty of people like myself. There are some office workers and store attendants, and sometimes I recognize someone from the wine and liquor store.
Perfume lingers in the air and perhaps a hint of tobacco.
There are almost no men around at this hour, some younger guys, and the occasional briefcase and suit whose car has broken down. The suitclad appear confused by the public transportation system, they fumble with the tickets and try to fold their morningpapers into a manageable size. With the exception of some well-integrated Latin Americans and the occasional Iranian intellectual, there aren't any immigrants either. After all, this is the inner city. Every child is white, except the adopted ones.