Wheels on a street. Wheels of a boy knight. Wheels cracking like firecrackers on this steamy street. He is a warrior getting beaten by his mother. He is getting beaten by a mother on a warm evening. A mother is beating him like he should not be beaten. It is a warm evening, an evening without any pleasantness, and the boy is getting beaten. He deserves a better treatment but look at him. Better, look at his mother and her hardwork. She is tired but she continues. On this warm evening which is nothing much, an unnecessary act of mild violence is getting committed. In the middle of that act, he flees. He is gone while his mother’s hands keep beating the air. He is gone on his round wheels, that boy. Gone. Gone with other rascals. He is around the corner and he turns away and he is gone.
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