Undersmoke
“What’s that smell, it all seems the same…” I don’t know where this voice came from.
There wasn’t a single flower around in the concrete jungle. But the smell was really strong.
“You can’t stay here any longer, it’s not the place for you…” the same voice.
It’s not obedience to a persistently petulant voice, but an attempt to end the wretched monotony. So I began to walk…
