Some shutters down, some rise,
scenes fly past the busy eyes.
But do you see, he who goes slow?
Trudging along on his battered shoes.
Listless hands and a muddied face,
an antithesis to the surrounding race.
Carrying a pallid soul and many a bruise.
Alone he walks but isn't an only one.
Every turn, bodies stumble, souls die;
you may see them lying on the wayside.
But no time to spare; busy you are ... in your run.
On an unrelated note, the next post has to be on the trip to Hong Kong and Taiwan.