Al-ameen Ishola

Blue and Bullish

The sounds of carefree people enjoying themselves was all around, but Ali could barely hear it. All that got through to him were muffled whomps, right out a cartoon from his childhood; that and the sound of his own footfalls. He passively wondered how many months or years of work the people around him had put in to gain this reprieve. He’d been to this paradoxical city before; with its old buildings but glowing ambiance. A wave of warm memories flooded Ali’s mind and for the briefest moment the whomps turned into words. He heard laughter and chatter, and for the first time that day he looked up and took in his surroundings. Then just as quickly as the uplift had come it was gone, and he was nearly pulled over backwards by the weight of the jar in his backpack.