My heart feels heavy in my chest and broken.

Our torn memories haunt me to death.

I can feel the stitches on my shattered heart hanging down with heartstrings that you had ripped out.

You left me thinking what have I done wrong to deserve this painful heartbreak?

You got me shedding tears.

One minute I shake off the torn memories of us

Then I am crying.

I tell myself that I will be fine, b...

im not mad at least not anymore. would like to be your friend to if you still want to : ) ...

In a bustling market, the senses come alive in a vibrant tapestry of experiences:

**Sight:** The market is a riot of color. Stalls overflow with a kaleidoscope of fresh produce—ripe oranges, glossy red tomatoes, and deep green leafy vegetables. Brightly colored textiles hang from racks, their intricate patterns catching the eye. Shoppers weave through narrow aisles, their movements creating a con...

Cacophony of voices. High. Low. The buisnessman’s quick pointed tone. A mother’s reassuring touch. Shuffling consistent with abrupt interruptions. A distracted straggler stops in his tracks confusing the flow. Every movement made seems only to impede another’s route and intention. Lack of movement also a disrupting force. One flow, inconsistent and cumbersome.

Turning the head to the left one mi...

The red fabric wagon is pulled along the streets, nearing the busy market. Inside lies a little girl - her eyes closed, her breathing steady, she is seemingly asleep.

The little girl can feel every loose stone on the rocky street as the wagon wheels bump over them. The little girl is not asleep; she wants to be at the market, she wants to be around the exciting smells and sounds and people, but...

Smell:

- Overwhelming

- Spicy

- Salty

- Musty from he amount of people crammed into such a small area.

Touch:

- All the different textures of clothing from bumping into to various cilivians

- The roughly textured cobblestone

Sound:

- The sound of hundereds of people talking at the same time...

The afternoon sunlight catches dust and the scent of spices. They blend together in the baking heat, so the schoolboy can't tell which ones sting his eyes and which ones cling to the back of his throat. He wipes sweat from his eyes and clasps at the silky fabric of his mother's hem.

He can feel her weariness. It brings with it an almost whispered staccato to her negotiations with the shopkeeper....

On Sundays, we’d go around 4:30 just before closing time. Searching for boxes of mangoes, strawberries, and blueberries. Walking past the fish and clams. Through the stalls of lettuce, cucumbers, spinach and tomatoes. Fragrances of freshly picked apricots, citrusy lemons, and aromas of sweet corns and earthy potatoes.

Late afternoon was the best time to go. When the fruit sellers started packing ...

Not sure where I am

Or where I’m going

Or where I’ve been...

When I entered the market, I heard people are chatting about the produce, I knew what they are saying, because I had an experience of buying and cooking foods myself, always saying “Is it fresh?”, “Is it good?”, “what can I do with this, and that?”, and so on. Every one wants to eat healthier, right? At the seafood area, I smelled the raw shrimp, very interesting to me, I can’t imagine this will b...