There are mounds of slag and dross that cover the walkways. They are globs of dried concrete that trip the pedestrians. I see a father carrying his small daughter on his back. His hands are clasped behind him and his fingers interlocked around her.
A man on the bus dressed in blue socks, brown shoes, green pants, and a beige jacket exits carrying a purple shopping bag.
At many points along the road there are no crosswalks, no lights. Yet, people flood the four lane roads into small pockets of space, sucked into the void of passing busses, cars and mopeds. Like water running back into a scrape made in the mud, they overflow the streets until the next bus approaches and pushes them out of the way.
The automated voice announces the next bus stop, but it's not comprehensible for the TV blasting commercials touting multivitamins that will make my body healthy.
But I think I'll just avoid what's making it weak. I'm getting off at the next stop.
I'm not a complete idiot, some parts are missing. - Bumper sticker
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