It’s been a long day. I can see it in his eyes. Unzipping his leather jacket with a gasping sigh, he gazes at the snaky traces his muddy biker boots have left. Huddled up on the sofa and resting his bones, watches at the troops of souls walking down the street. He’s one of the many strangers and solitudes that this once smoky city holds. Weary eyes reveal his errands. ‘Another double espresso?’ he eagerly asks his friend while deciphering the time in his vintage watch.
Perhaps the silence of a lonely flat is what awaits him at dusk. There’s no rush in getting home for a citizen of the world. Is burnt asphalt what he regards as home? He longs for the road, silent witness of an untold past. As the wind caresses his face, myriad of images come to life. Screening of memories and nostalgia are the fillers of endless miles.