its an irony or simply
humanistic emotions
visitation. and re-visitations.
ordeal that breed new whiffs
of inspiration

i am set to return this summer.
to visit and attest.
streets here being to bear stark resemblances.
to streets i ran on when i was six.

alleyways here, almost feel like
the alleyways i rolled and thumbled around in me bike.
just that, i m rolling over cobblestones
on the wintry morning ride to work.

weird and many atimes intimidating characters
that bear a repulsive stench
occurs in every city.
the language they speak, being the only differing element.
everything is pretty similar,
but it all weighs down to the viewer's perception
the facets of life.

i hear you cry,
its not the same at all.
maybe its just me blind.