It has been over a couple hours since the sun set after beating down on the city’s hapless inhabitants, giving way to a cool breeze. A mélange of shops line the left side of the road, with neon lights and the hustle and bustle of an evening market. There is a brisk flow of hungry people walking into a brightly lit restaurant with an equal amount of people strolling out, their tummies full and hearts content. Just beyond the restaurant's parking space is a makeshift table covered with a blue tarpaulin sheet, on top of which sit a heap of jasmine buds and a sole short strand of flowers that have been deftly tied together with a wafer-thin string. Sitting behind the bench is a tired old lady with a crease on her brow, patiently looking at all the bikes whooshing by and the pedestrians zigzagging through the thoroughfare.
Look to the other side of the street and there is a bank that is winding down for the day; the staff pulling down the grey shutters, mentally getting ready to go back to their homes and families.
