Why is there so much dust in the air, I wonder. Perhaps it's cumulated, heavy exhaust from all the traffic. It's supposed to go up in the air and kill the ozon layer, but a look in the sky is enough to understand that the atmosphere is already full. It's too tired to carry any more poisonous particles.
Across the street, eight brutal lanes away, there's a line of green-roofed vinyl huts. Aging street vendors are selling used goods that they think good enough for someone else to pick up walking by. They are mostly bargains and I enjoy the random selection of products, the short lived element of surprise.
Mental stimulation with a hint of creativity, paired with a sense of nostalgic romance, memories of a time when I was still a weird little kid in Germany. All of that displayed and sold for a few coins. It's a beautiful day, painfully tainted by the bitter taste of an article that doesn't want to be written yet.