Fragrance of life, the odour of night.

A windy night, raindrops on my skin; what a might breeze, sweeping the streets. Night is filled with vagabonds and those wandering in search for nothing with the splattering of life at the filthy back lanes.

Empty plastic bottles rolling, flying shreds of paper displaying forgotten news. The intensifying wind, bringing about the discards of mortals.

Slender legs, short bright dresses, incredibly high heels; attractive women walk the streets. Sometimes accompanied by male companions, sometimes alone.

Tired taxi drivers, partly on the look out for customers, especially for those eager to return home or for many who seek the fastest transport to a cheap hotel for a quick romp. The knowing faces of these drivers care not of the purpose, they are eager to earn a living.

I stand on the street, seeing the flow of night. I absorb all, the essence. Such fragrance and odour, entwined with sadness and bliss. Life is never complete. Such is the nature of the night.

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