There she was. Under six foot of earth. By the river. A plantain merrily feeding on her ashes. The world is a lonely place cawed the crow. The foliage agreed as the breeze went past. This too shall pass. Another memory. Another sorrow. For our souls are so cavernous where the universe can get lost in.
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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