The city had chewed on this old man for long enough. He was done with it. He didn’t want to walk these streets anymore. From today he would stay home on the balcony, with the laundry.
He was done skipping over pools of murky water. Done passing rancid gutters and dipping in and out of cracks in tarmac. Done dodging merciless taxis, and done crossing demented roundabouts.
The sun had used him up. So he was done with that too. There was not one patch in the sky lately, not one patch passing over to give momentary relief. The relentless shine was as merciless as the taxis, and he was glad to retire to the balcony.
Excerpt from ‘Done’ by Diana Nyakyi
Drawing: India Street flats near Haidery Plaza