#54

Boots treading on a dark sidewalk shiny with wet and the soft light of streetlamp. A passing headlight illuminates a smattering of tiny lives, carrying their spiraled homes, casting long shadows and longer glistening trails. Their existence this night an anti-minefield, ready to explode inward in the crackle and pop of calcium and flesh. A once careless stroll becomes delicate, one cannot look ahead when each step is life or death.