A young kid waving his tender 'Ciao' from a yellow tram, and you waving back.
A Russian woman saying 'bless you child', smell of incense and faraway home in your lungs at an orthodox church.
Different pastry a muslim lady has given you to try, at the bakery downstairs, because you only go there at your lowest. She has two lovely sons.
Blisters. You have new shoes.
Enjoying your coffee. Not smoking for 31 days.
Buying plastic star dust at the stationery shop, run by two elderly men, whom probably bet occasionally on your occupation.
Bits and pieces of it lay around here and there, and if you look with curiosity, maybe you will be awaken enough to see it.