We will never be able to understand the lives of the street hawkers or road side dwellers or anybody who has broken off the leaves of life because we all have our own story to go back to. A story we all are interested to write in our own way.
We are all in someway swimming and floating and drowning in its waves but we have a story. They don't. They don't have hope.
Imagine you are stuck in an endless night for eternity, will you be able to see the light and smile? You will be frightened beyond imagination for the first time but slowly you will fall in love with this beaming beauty, an unquenchable hunger.
Now do you really want me to believe that leaving this ocean of sunshine you would ever try to live a life in a sightless tunnel even for a moment. You and me sometimes might slip into the shadows of ourselves from time to time but sinking into a black cloak that devours souls quicker than we can breath? Huh! Let's stop. Let's not talk. It's fine.
Someday the broken, bruised and battered will rise and then we won't be able to explain. Its destined. So lets rest now.