Imagery through an irony.
Imagine this.
I was on my way to the ATM outside Merville, when I saw the same old greasy hobo sweeping the street with a makeshift broom, just as he always has. Everyday. Since before I even came into existence.
At the ATM, the heavily perfumed girl in front of me seemed to be dealing with her account. And with each transaction, a receipt would appear. And one by one, she crumpled them, and threw them away. By her feet. On the bare ground.
The man, who people initially deem as filth on feet, is the one looking after the cleanliness of the world, before even starting with the state of his own skin.
And the woman, seemingly fresh from the shower, could not even keep her own filth to herself, even for a little while.
And we ask ourselves, why is the world slowly deteriorating?
Alas, the ironies in life.
I was on my way to the ATM outside Merville, when I saw the same old greasy hobo sweeping the street with a makeshift broom, just as he always has. Everyday. Since before I even came into existence.
At the ATM, the heavily perfumed girl in front of me seemed to be dealing with her account. And with each transaction, a receipt would appear. And one by one, she crumpled them, and threw them away. By her feet. On the bare ground.
The man, who people initially deem as filth on feet, is the one looking after the cleanliness of the world, before even starting with the state of his own skin.
And the woman, seemingly fresh from the shower, could not even keep her own filth to herself, even for a little while.
And we ask ourselves, why is the world slowly deteriorating?
Alas, the ironies in life.