I was surprised to come across a fantastic art exhibition. I talked to the artist, Ken, who was 57 and had clearly been having a nana nap.
He put his jacket on, straightened himself up then told me what some of the themes meant in his work.
After aisles and rows and lanes of eateries and department stores, he was a pleasant, somewhat entertaining, island.
I suddenly felt like Alice in Wonderland getting to big for the room and had to get out onto a street. Even though some of the streets had that toxic combustable-egg stench, like the canals in Venice when they get blocked off for maintenance - that smell, and smog, were still preferable to the underground recycled air.
It was cooler, fresher and drizzling slightly as I wandered around, up and down alleyways and streets.
Seeing Starbucks suddenly in front of me was like seeing the welcoming open doors of a church on a rainy night, and through an admirable feat of restraint, I managed not to sprint through its doors, throwing my arms out shouting 'HALLELUJAH - PRAISE THE BARISTA!'.
I couldn't restrain myself any longer, however, when I saw the Honey Dispenser (I'm sure I embarass everyone at home with my insistence on having honey instead of sugar with my Soy Latte), and gushed severely all over the poor person who was trying to clean up that area. I could tell I was frightening her so I hurriedly apologised and sat down quietly to my coffee and started writing.