Cause at the end, you have to be the star that shines alone in the dark. The pedestrians with a grim face. A thousand thoughts, a thousand feelings. Clutter of bells, devotees on a mission. A greed to please the idols of mud. Beggars on the porch steps. Occasionally, someone throws a coin in the bowl. Vehicles sighing at the sight of red lights. And the traffic ahead, exhausted. The street lights flashing by. The stench of monotonous life, like a poison.

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