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.

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