The scheduled proceeds of the night, it's calamity and peace were overrun by gusts of powerful wind, laced with droplets of rain. It arises in small clouds of chaos above the bustling, vibrant nightlife of the dimly lit streets. In the midst of chaos, dressed in my usual Saturday attire, I stand quietly and observe the night. Pages of torn, unused newsletters softened against the concrete ground, crumpled plastic bags flew around in typhoon-like motions scraping against the front doors of the sonorous markets. I have walked these alleyways my whole life, I know them just the same as if they were etched in my head, scorched in deeply as if a treasured masterpiece.

There was always something I found mesmerising about the western suburbs. Perhaps …show more content…
In awe of the modernisation of society, despite the chaos of these western streets. As I start to wander down into the river of people, the sweet, savory aroma waft through the cool autumn air. My stomach clench with hunger at the thought of crispy bread roll. I can imagine the warm, crispiness of pork dripping down my throat. My stomach rumbles in response. Immediately, I direct myself through the street vendors to one of the most well-known bakery. It was like a spell. As I walk closer to the scent, the hungrier I became. As I pass the venues, I notice different shops stood on either side of the street, in harmony. As though in agreement of the shared value of them together, their doors are wide open, as customers push and squeeze, eager to fill their stomachs for the night.

But amidst all this craziness, away from the spotlight, a hunchbacked, middle-aged man stood in the distance. Isolated from the river of people, like a mysterious eagle eyeing every move made by his prey. What could he be possibly doing, why was he isolated? Old thoughts creep into my mind, I realise it was one of the ‘different’ people who somehow found themselves sleeping on the road and scavenging for