A ray of sunshine filtered through the broken window and a tiny corner was lit up.
It was a room I saw in passing. Stuck inside a cab, waiting for the signal to turn green, I got a peek into what would have been someone's home. What had the walls heard and seen? Had the roof felt the rattle of laughter? Had the beams sagged under someone's sorrow? Pale blue walls, trimmed white wooden window frames... they evoked a fairy tale. The lopsided photo of a forgotten God next to a framed picture of a local hero balanced the scale between faith and fame.
The cab began its sluggish march towards my destination.
I turned one last time. To memorize the broken orange and blue buckets piled outside the dismantled door. A used pail of paint and rusty ladder, attempts at fixing a home.
Symbols of lives lived, probably mean an attic full of memories to someone.
We move along. An urchin with a snotty nose and the eyes of an imp catches my attention.
A story everywhere.
The cab began its sluggish march towards my destination.
I turned one last time. To memorize the broken orange and blue buckets piled outside the dismantled door. A used pail of paint and rusty ladder, attempts at fixing a home.
Symbols of lives lived, probably mean an attic full of memories to someone.
We move along. An urchin with a snotty nose and the eyes of an imp catches my attention.
A story everywhere.
