But that was all before

she started walking into walls. Before she started smelling the emotions of those in her near vicinity, getting distracted, loosing her balance and crashing. Oh, but I get ahead of myself.
What was before? The mixing of the road signs with store signs with books so she might suddenly look a stranger on the street in the eyes and with flashes of "please do not smoke," and "Buddha says everything has to be forsaken," running around somewhere in the gymnasium of her mind, she would say directly and loudly, "Where please smoke forsaken Buddha?" and her mother, (the vessel of shame,) would shovel her along blushing embarrassment, while she, poor fool, continued to stare hard at where the building met the sky.