Poetry - I lived in a small city for many years and remember a woman who walked with a book. I bet she walked a good 5 or 6 miles to work, and appeared to walk everywhere else as well. Distinctive because she was so tanned in all seasons, and always a brisk walk while holding a book with both hands. The most I ever got good at was either to and from my highschool (a straight walk down my street) or the local bus stop different times when working (the morning zombie walk with a book made it bearable). Unfortunately I suffer from motion sickness and can't even look at a map when in a vehicle so that's out
I try to take in the world amonkie, but I seem to readily slip into a cow-like state where time passes and I become aware that it is later in the day, with no real involvement or direction accomplished from the time I've been waiting.
Leto, I have girl watched since I was a wee lad. The time is enjoyable in the moment but for the life of me I can't recall more than a small fraction of the passing multitude after the fact. That is also a bit like chewing the cud for me. I guess that's where the word ruminate comes from, but I don't really have anything of substance to pass into the stomach of the mind from my quiet foraging of imagery in the changing scene around me. It sure is a pleasant thing to do though. The ever present flow of loveliness is a balm to the spirit in a wait-laden day. Unless you find yourself waiting in rather dull places (I spend a lot of time near the concrete entrance to a hospital - not always pretty).
I do like the pause time Baraka. And I can even develop thoughts and imagery, or layer context over a piece I have in the studio through thinking about it while stimulated by a changed environment. That is a plus.