A pair of bluish translucent glass carefully moves sideways towards opposite ends to uncover a dilly-dallying of unknowns. A car stops abruptly in front and a rushing lady with a phone to her ear takes several steps forward. She crosses to an island right smack in the middle of the bustling cityscape that doesn’t quite feel like the typical metropolitan, yet the surge of crowd coming from underground, at the other end of the island, says… nothing. It is almost silent–if one can drown out the honking cars and ringing phones and a few shouting here and there and wherever. Everyone is too preoccupied with the daily trade and all the to’s and fro’s of each individual schedule. The winds blow from an unidentified direction, sending satisfying shivers down the spines of tropical aliens standing in front of the pair of glass which is now back together at the centre. Perhaps they should have grabbed a scarf or two as well. The sun is up but glowing as if, like the aliens, she is on vacation as well. There is the smell of roasted meat right next to the luggage bag store which is beside another store right next yet another: all around the city are doors to multiple business-as-usual: it is Tuesday and there is no reason not to be.
To the younger of the aliens, the city is a surprise, a forgotten nostalgia. And upon this realisation, they feel the winds blow again and the cars stop to let them pass.
Amongst these photos, this one stands out in my memories.
gyurithegreat 