At the Station

At the Station

Headaches emanating from bustling and jostling of people enveloping me.Anarchy of holiday season preparation; deliberate air-passing mixing with the miserable stench of my failure making me nauseous.An eerily-awful DJing of music from the "beer-bar"..Plays initially with butt-worth-shaking tunes and continues in a rowdy tone distorting symphony. I look at the face of the tomato seller and all the sound makes her like a Da Vinci.Lo and behold,buses moving to and fro. Echolaccs, polyethene bags,sacks and "Ghana must go";people are wandering in the circle with.The fleeting moments of euphoria I can't bottle;words ascend from the lump-mucus of my throat, I sighed and enjoyed the festivity as well.Families meeting with flowery caresses, comfort intimacy unlocking the euphoria in each of them raying peace earned from the unison and hurling away their melancholies.