I am sitting here pleasant and comfortable in the front office, peering through a chink in the heavy curtains. It is dark, but there is just enough light to write on.

It is really strange to watch people pass. They seem to be in such a hurry that about their journey on their own feet. Those on bicycles whiz by so fast I can not even say who is on cycling. The people of this district are not particularly attractive to watch. Children in particular are so dirty that you would not touch with a ten-foot pole. Real slum children with runny nose. I can hardly understand a word they say.

Yesterday afternoon, when My friend and I were taking a bath, as I said, “And if we took a fishing rod and reeled in each of these children one by one as they walked, stuck in the bath, washed and mended their clothes and then … “

“And tomorrow they can be just as dirty and in tatters as they were before,” My friend replied. But I’m babbling. There are also other things to see on cars, boats and rain. I can hear the tram and children and I myself am enjoying.

Our thoughts are like the subject of little change as we do. They are like a ride, transform food to politics.

***Pic is taken from here

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