Monday, April 11, 2011


It's half an hour to midnight. The streets buzzing still. Cigratte in hand a lady speaks on her cell as filled up bright buses ride past. Sounds from the large advertising screens can now be heard though when the traffic light halts traffic. Everyone with a thought perhaps. Of what's next. Of what they are doing. Of getting laid. Of how drunk they want to get. Of loved ones far away. Of bad assess in their life. Of life. Modern human life.

And I stand here watching. And all I want to do is not think.


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