a dead end street.
an impasse.
The street of dreams? Years ago I know in my neighborhood, a street that only has one input. Rushes into the heart of the apple as a wide road and pavement.
would it be like to live there? A number of other old houses are arranged on each side. Houses without gardens. Just a door and windows.
each morning I will go out into the street. Just one block from a single output.
At the end of the alley is a wall that marks the end of its limited travel. Fifty yards from the entrance to the end wall.
Someone wryly christened Passage. She gave him a name. Passage to where? Like a passage to another place, should have an input and output. This path truncated fifty meters to die in the wall of the fund, which also die every afternoon sun is just a ticket providing access to houses inhabited by beings who have only one exit.
always in the same direction. "Beings who are always in the same direction? A street with no options. A passage arid nowhere, as there is green on the other street that sees the birth and death itself.
a dead end street made of cobblestones and cement. Hermit pale referring to a barren landscape of northern street. No mountains, no rivers, no trees, no birds are left to die in agony urban.
Whenever entry step is always the same scene, no one fills their little villages. Uninhabited, quiet, absent. Behind every door, every window is a world to discover. A neighborhood where not everyone knows. Surely
people with many dreams, who lives on a street with only one exit, a street with no future, an alley of broken dreams.
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