24 hours, 24 hours make a day and yet somehow, at the end of it all, we are really left praying for some more hours. 9 hours of work, 2 hours of commute, 7 hours of pretentious-sleep and you hardly are left with time to do something that you have always wanted - to do the things that you love. Then, there are the deadlines, the expectations of others and your own unique hell that you carry from yesterday. The collective weight already makes you feel like dropping back to bed and call in sick. And yet, somehow, you know you cannot afford to do so. There is this meeting to attend, that mail to send, that college kid whom you cannot ignore anymore for sponsorship that he so desires. The Autumn morning looks eerily dry and all you can do is pray that you don't snap.
You keep thinking about it. It hits you when you are down, it hits you when you need hope that there is actually someone or something that will stop by and take pity at your miserable condition. But sadly, there isn't anyone now, is there?
Even your heart doesn't follow your whims and fancies...just like your dreams.
Sitting by the riverside, amidst people who had come to catch the evening breeze at sunset, I noticed how that ice-cream seller kept pacing up and down the broken pathway, trying to sell a bar or two. Who stops for that man? Who asks him about his plight, about his family? No one.