On my way to school many things have not been notice but one thing that has never failed to draw my attention is the little old man that lives in a crumbled old tent on the road to Vasant Vihar. It is not as much of a tent as it is a shack with unparallel walls and garbage bags for a roof.
The man seems to never show any emotion, as if he is staring into a television blankly. And for a reason that I haven’t found yet, he is always sitting outside his tent with a white robe that you might mistake as a brown one if you didn’t pay enough attention.
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