It was like the Tale of Two Cities. A squatter's area depicting poverty in the city and over the high wall gapping the shanties was an affluent town.
I see myself walking, clad in a pair of shorts less than an inch above the knee,and a pair of flip-flops. I feel so darn hungry and I see myself walking on the street looking for food. The houses to my left and right are big and beautiful. They are adorned with expensive ornaments, metallic tufts surrounding them, glowing white paints, and grecian doors and windows. Extending my eyes to the right side of the road brings me to another level down under. There's another long stretch of a road and I just figure I am on a hill. An ongoing construction of a humongous house invites me to stop. The workers wearing yellow hard hats on the slope of the hill stir the entire village with their drills and pounding hammers.
I continue to walk and when I turn to my right, the scene changes to a crowded sprouts of shanties. I see some familiar faces. They invite me to their dwellings but a peddler vending some fishballs on my way puts me to a stop. I satisfy my eyes but not my stomach. As I look around, I see some mothers doing their own laundry. I sit with them and we engage in gossips.
After some time, I decide to leave and see myself getting his way out of the village. I am back at the construction site where workers I am unfamiliar with keep shouting at me. I panic and try to leave the place quickly but the pair of my slippers gets stuck at the slabs of wood and planks of metal lying on the ground. I manage to get out but I don't find one of my slippers.
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