The Diary of a Sidewalk. šŸ›£

It has been four and a half hours and no human walked over me, except for that dog walker who is a lesser human anyway. No human feet is walking over from my chest to my head, no bare feet, not a sordid shoe. I feel so redundant and neglected.

In the 21st century, they drive on wheels and don’t walk over footpaths. However, they do look at me through the window when the music is loud and they give into their own ecstasy or when they cannot stand the deafeaning silence and the foresaken proximity that lingers between them. Humans are funny, they strive to be omni potent, socially acceptable and in doing that they overlook potential camaraderies, they direct their energies to things of little pertinence and absolve the self. I pity these human heads.

Well, it hasn’t rained in a while and I’ve been missing out on Helen’s rain dance and oh! how furtively have we been doing this for years now. Her feet is magical when she moves it to the obfuscating rythm of the tiny raindrops. Her arms tell stories when they move in synergy. That, my friend, is a sight to imbibe. The other pavements have been very belligerent to me owing to this little rain party that we celebrate together. But about helen, the last time she walked past me she was with a man. He was handsome but I did not like him. He pushed Helen so hard that she tripped over my feet and hit her elbow. That poor girl, she found love in foulplay. I couldn’t apologise to her, my rough edges hurt her and I haven’t seen her since.

I’m an existential threat to the hawkers that find solace in me and fall asleep on me. Poor men are chased by cops all night but when the sky is lit by garrulous stars that shine like little heads in a sea of fire, the poor mean embrace me like a maiden. Their boiling stomachs make all sorts of weird sounds but then, it is not an everyday affair for a sidewalk to be hugged with a love like this.

My edges are broken now. All those men in white who drudged over me several times during the elections have totally forgot that I exist. I used to be so beautiful and winsome when I was younger but all my charm has been vanquished by the black tyres of my young peddlars. Oh my sweet children!

I’m so tired of looking at people propelled with lack of communication. They walk over me withdrawn, without a word exchanged. They are either ignoring eye contact from each or looking into their smartphones.

Gone are the times when Sidewalks were romanticised because now, they are only mired and walked upon. Sigh. 


31 thoughts on “The Diary of a Sidewalk. šŸ›£

  1. what a unique slant on the ordinary! What a new way to view the sidewalk. It has a Voice! I enjoyed the variety of images to go with the words as well. Glad, I’m not – the only out there, looking intently …. at sidewalks as I walk along šŸ™‚ But, you know, I’m looking for designs and patterns. LOL

    Liked by 1 person

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