Julia L.

streaming into a river of incomprehensibility,

accented by crunching gravel underfoot,

harmonizing with car engines, horns, and alarms.

Alleyways left and right lie along narrow paths

creating a maze of doors under big red signs,

facing each other across a cement sea, and

bobbing people momentarily block the text.

Lumps and hills in the walk curve shoes

stumbling across cracks in the rugged brick,

shuffling from side to side evading people

perturbed slightly by the passing air and heat.

Clear air overpowered by smoke smell

originating from idling cars and dead cigarettes,

punctuated by spices drifting out doorways,

mixing and diluting in the restaurants and eateries.

Varieties of anything line store shelve tops

resting above the hand written price cards,

enticing the visitor with pictures of savory fruits,

varying from a sweet bun to a bitter herb.