The Streets Are Never Quiet

That morning, the sky looked gloomy, as if immersed in the still-overcast atmosphere. The street in front of this small market was bustling with the roar of vehicles, the sound of horns, and the conversations of vendors greeting one another. The aroma of coffee and fried foods mingled with the damp air left over from the previous night's rain, creating a unique atmosphere familiar to every passerby.

A black car drove slowly by, while on the side of the road, a woman busily prepared her breakfast wares. Behind her, brightly colored shop signs displayed a variety of necessities, from Hajj supplies to Kurnia noodles, which seemed to be a favorite among locals. Amidst the hustle and bustle, the sound of motorbikes passing by could be heard, leaving splashes of water on the still-wet road.

The distant view revealed shady green hills, adding a sense of coolness to the dense buildings. The dense trees there seemed to act as a natural barrier for this small town. Beneath the gray sky, life continued to move at its own, calm yet dynamic rhythm.

There's something warm about this atmosphere. Behind the simplicity of the streets, stories of struggle, intimacy, and sincerity are hidden. Each passerby carries their own story: a vendor waiting for customers, a driver in a hurry, a young man returning from Islamic boarding school, or perhaps someone simply enjoying the journey while gazing at the distant hills.

This street may seem ordinary to some, but for those who grew up and live around it, every corner holds memories. From busy mornings to tranquil evenings, everything is part of a small life that continues to revolve endlessly like the pulse of a simple yet meaningful city.

Note: I am writing in Indonesian and using the help of Google translate to translate into English.

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@gunting