We never know where we will end up eventually.
I scrape my already worn out slippers on the hot concrete road. With a kariton behind me I pull it so ever forward, not minding the weight that it carries. The clinks of glass bottles and rusty nails and metal pieces make a sort of lullaby in this arid city. The buildings are high, yet so old. People are scurrying to momentary shades, breathing in dust and humid air, seeking comfort in the darkness of the old structures. I look forward, the mirage seducing my thirst and i hungrily swallow a small amount of my saliva. I'm thirsty. I find an alleyway beside the oldest building in the city. I leave my kariton outside, and with a pat on it like a pet dog i enter my hidden sanctuary.
This part of the city is untouched. Sacred ground in contrast to the almost lifeless, rustic and artificial structures in this cursed city. There seems to be an abundance of water spouting here whenever I visit. I do not talk about its existence. It is my home. My