Complex consciousness

The street was very alive for this time of day. They were still there wandering from one band to another, watching the different performances. But she wanted to be home. She had her pockets full of stollen belongings and was only longing now for her baby waiting in the dark room of the first floor. She could imagine the cries of her infant and the shouts of the nanny, and during one moment they joined the rumbling noise of the street. She then realized she could actually hear the complaints coming from her left and spotted a young woman, struggling with her own child. She knew her: she went to her house a couple of times. A two-floors mansion with more doors than in a castle. She remembered the smell of grilled meat and the green stairway carpet that softened the sounds of the footsteps. She wanted to have it for her; the baby wouldn't wake up each time her husband come home late in the evening with his large black boots.

But it was out of reach of her thief's talents.