Streets. The street you grew up on, and the street where you no longer live. The street you chose when leaving, and the street you needed to return. The street you took to in protest, or they paraded upon like a perverse catwalk for military might. The curious street signs in foreign lands and the local ones you no longer notice. The fresh street you first took your lover’s hand on for the first time, and the trodden street’s hard solitude the last time you said goodbye.
The streets warmed by European yellow lights, flattened by industrial highway LEDs, focused on by headlights cutting through the storm, cracked and aged by the unforgiving desert sun. The shops, people, seasons and decades have all changed, but the street endures. It has always been our allegorical companion, so it is no wonder it has inspired endless works of art.
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