They can stand next to each other and co exist like a slum shack and a Mercedes benz showroom that I saw moments later.
2.What was really disturbing about that street urchin was the way he could squeeze himself out of the traffic amidst angrily glaring lights and venture out towards the lonely and darker side of the city. This I have assumed could only come with grief. A sustainable kind of grief. But grief as such was hard to tell on his already damaged yet content and serviceable body. He carried a poster of an over dressed woman probably a dancer and kept shuffling it between his skinny dirt beneath the nail hands. He walked carelessly yet professionally avoiding gravel,stone and shit. Somewhere along the way when I suppose he’d thought he’d walked too much he dropped the poster right in the middle of the street and detoured his way through the nearby lane and left me wondering why he carried the poster all along the way when he was bound to abandon it. He headed towards the parked cars and peered in through each one of those misty glass windows to catch a glimpse of what lay inside that remarkable invention. He must have been eight – at the peak of his imagination while his feet held him sturdy beneath the ground of hope and desire.