Even though I was alone, still, gripped by anxiety, alone outside that yellow subway, something in front of me picked me up from the ground, and pulled me up: a market, a market that seemed almost magical. And even though it was evening, and it was cold, and I was late, I remained there among the clothes and fine fabrics, among the bags of a thousand colors and the flags of the countries. Silence, in that magical market silence, calm reigned, the people were good and kind, they didn't push you from one side to the other. And once I had finished admiring the magical stalls, full of sweets, or jewels, sandals or clothes, books or records, I realized something: I had managed ALONE to walk along that dark street that had always scared me so much, thanks to the little lights. that magical market, and the beautiful sunset that waved at you, to give space to the night. I was at home.
© PityPoem