Profane had got into this way of thinking, and along with parties in the daytime and a rotating shift system devised by Bung the foreman whereby you didn't know till the day before which hours you would be working the next, it put him on a weird calendar which was not ruled off into neat squares at all but more a mosaic of tilted street-surfaces that changed position according to sunlight, streetlight, moonlight, nightlight… He wasn't comfortable in this street. The people mobbing the pavement between the stalls seemed no more logical than the objects in his dream. "They don't have faces," he said to Angel.
Profane is grappling with a fragmented sense of time and reality due to his chaotic work schedule and the scenes around him. The unpredictable nature of his job, structured by his foreman, contributes to his disorientation, creating a sense of living in a mosaic rather than a structured timeline. As a result, his perception of the world becomes blurred, as he navigates through a life that feels uncoordinated and surreal.
This confusion is heightened by the crowd he encounters in the street, which further alienates him. He perceives the people around him as faceless, emphasizing his disconnect not only from his surroundings but also from himself. This observation highlights Profane's inner turmoil and discomfort in a reality that seems as chaotic and enigmatic as his dream-like experiences.
