To a foreigner all appeared well. There was laughter, chatter, friends joking together. Corruption went unnoticed, and proved to exist only through the words of the gossipers talking about stories so ancient, that no one knew if they were true or not . The people lived day in and day out blended together in a city that could not speak of the destruction, but could show it by the marks, the scratches, the damages left behind. The swarm of men and women chose not see the impact of their behaviours, yet someone knew what was not said. This was the child. The child had no name; his age was unknown. He had the innocence of a four year old and the wisdom of an old man. In this city he lived for centuries, never aging, never being noticed. He simply camouflaged into the walls, the gutters, the lampposts and the buildings. One day the child could no more bare sharing the broken streets. The vision of the city he once knew had fallen apart. Yet it was more than just what his eyes ...
A mixture of my poetry, stories, and ramblings.