Life, it goes on.

Ships Wake


He drove the same route back and forth on weekdays, well over a year now. Same hoardings, same pasta, same cursed traffic lights. It aint exciting anymore. Deteriorating attention span, peppery hair and social media hypertension, suffering from middle age crisis like every other person of his age group. Failing to understand when will enough really be, Enough? Turning the knob right-he chose to dive in a pool of melody, played on air.

That boy, 4 years maybe, wearing daddies pant with a rope around his neck to hold em in position. Halfway up the traffic post, seemed like having time of his life. Tan face with a head full of shabby, sheepish hair. His heart sunk, for the kid was born poor. Amazing as it seems, children find joy in almost everything. Day after day, he would watch him from a distance. Never once did they meet or wave, or…

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