I have been around for so long that wishing someone a happy new year has become so cliched. No one I had wished earlier is around to prove that my wish had worked for them. Some seemed to have a good time while others didn't. I feel it would've been the same even if I hadn't wished them. Maybe it's my age that has nurtured this cynicism. Geologists claim that I am from the paleolithic era. That's why they have kept me secure in this room, away from the vagaries of pollution and solar flares deep in space. From here I see my Earth spinning happily and churning out year after year. Before the lights in my room go off, let me wish you a very happy new year, anyway.
Looks like the fog just spared my window to the street. The street lights looked liking smokers in an alley. The cobble stones were wet from the drizzle. The street dogs were busy barking at something. A breeze just unsettled the garbage can's lid. My world hasn't changed much. Everyday I look for some sign of change. Nothing seems to change. I have grown bald. My eyesight has dimmed. My kids have grown. The window pane has gathered dust and dirt. The spiders have evolved. Some old buildings have given way to new ones. The neon signs have gone. Still nothing seem to have changed. Change they say has to come from within. But then, what can come out of an empty narrow dead end?
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