Downtown Stamford is an indecisive place, flipflopping between a suburb and a city, populated by a mix of people who I feel don’t belong to the same area. Something like Harvard Square, really.

The mall here is gigantic, and one place that struck me the most was a coliseum-esque “theater” with a piano resting on the bottom. People sit on the seats and watch others stride to and fro, and people above watch the watchers in turn from the 5th and 7th floors. I have never yet seen anyone walk down to play the piano, but the picture itself is hauntingly melodic – I can hear the notes even though nobody is playing. The scene itself is a respite amidst a busy display of conspicuous consumption, the flow of which is slowed as one shopping bag after another pass by the piano.