I continued my daily route down the street. My ears caught the sound of a weak, struggling voice, begging for change. I’m not miserly; I just don’t sympathize with people who have given up. My mind quickly moved on from vagrancy to the harsh realities of life. Life is what we make of it. Holding my head high, contemplating my success, I stumbled. A lace had come undone! I bent down. Feelings of inferiority and vulnerability threatened to swamp my body. To stoop below the common people imbues me with a sensation of coarse, bitter resentment.
Drills screaming, hammers beating, and the vulgar sound of fat men shouting; a building site. I prefer not to harm my eyes with such an atrocity, so I turned away. Yet, odours of fat filled, high cholesterol lunches insinuated my nose and throat. The stench was overwhelming; I walked on.
School, the foundation of my life. It made me what I am today. Passing by the infant school, I saw children. Watching these irritating, energy filled animals at play disturbed me. Where is their discipline? It never hurt me. They all have the potential to be successful respected entrepreneurs but I see their laziness. I see their failed futures; overweight builders struggling to provide for their desperate families, gossiping hairdressers and filthy beggars. I have worked hard to be where I am. Anger encouraged me to walk on.
Beside the school is a park. Couples embrace, children play and people rest. A place I fear and loathe. A place of dizziness, confusion and disorder. I cannot stand this “garden of joy”. I continued my journey.
I have friends, I just don’t see them. I like parties; people just don’t seem to entertain anymore. And how I would love romance. But I am happy.
We now arrive at County Street, known for being glorious. Strangers bid you “good day” and magnificent aged oaks soar into the blue sky, towering over civilization and human life. Nobility, strength and power, this street pleases me. I opened the door to be greeted by aromas of freshly ground coffee. I entered the café, above me the sign, “Le Café des Beaux-Arts”.
