One million foot steps were on that old district; the arrogant until idle steps mingled in a dance floor of life of the old city Baraga (Bandung-Indonesia), which the big mosque belonged to its icon. I met every levels of profession in that city; they were like moon and stars that decorated the sky in the daylight.
The entire alley was for seller’s show window who sought their fortune. They showed many variant of stuff as their source of their life. Sometimes their struggle time was varied with a little laughter for themselves or their colleagues.
Between the crowded alleys, there slipped people who sold their sympathy whishing that it could be paid with good fortune.
My steps were stopped when I was about to arrive in a three junction. There was somebody scattered asleep soundly under the chair between unopened stalls. It was whether because he was tired or unwilling to struggle for life, I did not know exactly, but the exact thing was it was the day when the sun’s blazing hot.
Peeping the lower class in Baraga, for me it was as pleasant as drinking a cup of coffee with traditional recipe. In my eyes, they were encountered with two things, first because of the destiny or second because of indolent.
Whether it was covered or indeed covered intentionally, the upper class was as if much more thought that the lower class life was just the usual thing and not necessary they thought or even concerned about.I just could do this and pray for you. Is that you poor people?
