Posts Tagged ‘No Where To Go’

The Alley Or The Busy City Street?

September 14th, 2022

The ride through the alley is peaceful. I enjoy the scenery. I enjoy having the whole alley to myself. The alley’s almost always empty, with the feel of a scenic route. I don’t have to deal with cars or stop light. There’s an allure to taking the alley, almost like I’m doing something I’m not supposed to, something society frowns upon.

I like to think I’m a people person. I like being around people. I like people around me. There’s always people throughout the city streets. I enjoy curb hopping, views of the city, looking through display windows, stopping at a local windowsill café for a Café con Leche, drinking the coffee while I sit on my bike, watching the hustle and bustle of the city. I like hearing and seeing buses pass. I like the option of taking a bus. I like navigating around the bus stops. The ride is more exhilarating.

Today, I have a sandwich and drink. Finding an out of the way place to eat within the alley is easier. Sitting and eating in the peaceful environment of the alley feels more enjoyable today. I’m not feeling very social. I feel like keeping to myself, eating without anyone around. The privacy of the alley is a benefit.

I think I’ll take the alley. At worst, I could navigate to the city street if I decide I’d rather ride through the city streets.


Written by George Farina:

She’s Been Walking All Night

September 14th, 2022

She’s been walking all night, late in the day, mile after mile. The streets don’t end. Hungry, malnourished, the sun beats down, dehydration sets in.

Muscles frail and tight, she lifts her legs with all her might. She’s been used all her life, alone and delirious, she struggles within.

Days turned to dusks. Dusks turned to nights. Nights turned to dawns. Dawns turned to days. Winters to Springs, Springs to Summers. Summers to Falls. Falls to Winters. In rapid succession. Life goes by much quicker on the streets. Yet the pain feels much slower, physically and mentally.

Shivering in the winter. Sweating in the summer. Soaked when rain falls. Dehydrated from the sun. Thankless Thanksgivings. Giftless Christmases. Cement beds to sleep.

The streets turned her much harsher, much quicker. Her health deteriorated much quicker. Many friends came and went. Her family didn’t ever exist.

A bus bench is ahead. A few minutes later, she takes a seat. Late at night, all alone. Her eyes close. Her body slides down the bench to the seat. She falls asleep.


Written by George Farina: