I walk the streets

of pavements

and people,

with boiling pots of oil

bananas and mango fries,

flowers, shoes

and spectacles

dresses, laughs

dust and pebbles.

 

I walk

eyes on me

the strange being

walking the streets

alone

mornings

late evenings

and nights at times,

the only brown one

on these roads,

a phone at hand

tracking places

and smiling faces,

in search of food

and solitude.