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As the sun shines through the broken windows
The remnants of my childhood
Mornings here, at this small urban urban community are often theatrical.
The winters have also arrived which has further added a tinge to its melancholic romance. People are still trying to come in terms with the rigidity of cold, while holding on to the glimmers of the summer to warm them up, while playing various earthly roles in their family.
Yesterday, I had to run some errands early in the morning. So I gently but rapidly paced alongside the barely-existent pavements on the side of the road .
The drizzling fog felt as if it were raining. The tar on the road was moist and had wet blots that made it look as if I’d traveled back to July, at its peak of the gloomy tropical monsoons.
The only differing aspect was the cold winter wind which made me put my hands in the pocket and cover my head and face from its attack.
As I crossed the road, a vegetable seller with his small stall on wheels was bargaining with a lady. I certainly didn’t have time to hear what they wanted to say. I ran past them and just as I was about to sit on my fiancé’s vehicle to be dropped to my destination, my eyes were struck into a dilapidated house on the other side of the road.
