Pockets light, sugar tight, checked shirts, let’s walk in tandem, now, right now. We look silvery.
They look silvery, its half dark. I can’t tell, maybe they are twins or a father and his son or a son and his father, or perhaps old friends? Who’ve grown so alike, years and years later. I can’t really tell.
There’s something haunting and quiet about this- them – this. Why do they walk in the dark, next to such a closed derelict place? All the shops are almost shut, Sultan Kebabs since 1992, OLD tea, Diyanas Mamak Stand. Even the jean repair place with the dark shape on the second floor that looks like a hanged man, but is a woman’s dress. I think. I can’t tell. I can’t tell.