There he walks, the little child, plodding along.

One step, hundred steps, a thousand steps.

Plodding, on and on, neverending.

Where is he going?

.
.
.

As I look around me, all I see is concrete, dried grass and dead leaves.

All around me is death and destruction. Void of any life.

Then, at last – sign of life!

Shades of green, shades of white.

… It was a potted plant.