I am walking through a street.
It divides at every next angle.
Each angle introduces another lane
and is full of its own memories.
Memories of up moments
and of down too.
On the boundaries, the street
is crowded with busy humans.
Some try to steal the vibrancy from the clothes
to light up their own lives
but are unable to do so
because of the raised price.
Some of the houses
have their walls withered.
Each crack of these walls
hold a story to tell.
The faded colour too
has some tales to tell.
No person except the shopkeeper
knows the other here.
There is no space to breathe.
As you raise your eyes,
you see a new face.
This street records memories
of human’s evolving race.
The evaporating water of the lake nearby
also has some history.
It finds its way between the lands,
tearing up the barren fields.
Here, everyone is busy
in his own business,
all are competing
towards attaining more progress.