Hi, this is a brief prose-poem of mine
A man looks outside and thinks: “This street is dirty, and how repulsive are the expressions of the passers-by. No sense of unity in their crooked movements and sideways furtive stares; they might as well have been crude antagonism personified”.
To such a man normalcy is already unbearable and so he does not sense that things can get worse. And if, in a flash, the furtive stare would change to raised hand, and the street’s corruption would acquire a crimson tint, it’s a superfluous danger, like a shark approaching one about to drown.
I also narrated it, here: