But really there is no contest. Just an enormous number of shops and you can go see-through, under so much surveillance. I saw the most pristine man, with a white fur hat.
It felt good at a base level. There was a swell of sound that took some tuning-in to. In between the jangle of elevator music and the sharp clack of crockery was the sound of humans. Hard to focus on, it was not in an easy range, but there. A soft strata of language at several removes. Chatter machined to something processed; homogenised speak becomes this warm burble. The sound of being alive. A hum in the hive. The noise of living that lifts of humans trying to be silent. A contented chunter.
But East Westfield versusWest Westfield? I couldn’t possibly comment except to say both are just a bunch of shops under a roof and then a lame tramp found his way to the Yo Sushi! restaurant and sat down at one of their tables. Then a swell of shoppers, all of whom seem to know each other, obscure my view of the tramp and when they are gone so is he.