story of the back street

I love to wander the streets, to dip into the passionate picture of daily affairs and thus to throw aside the  thoughts about my personal needlessness. Sense of belonging to the town always heals me from sorrow for the sad destiny of the jobless disabler- transforms dull musing into the passionate report and enables me to enjoy the fruits of my lips. Thus I joyfully went out now too, yet everything looked otherwise. Strange silence grasped me  - the street was empty. I looked around once again and saw  a group of people at the far end of the street. I took my camera and thus this shot appeared :

You may wonder, where are the people? Does the absence of any life hear mean that all that was written on above belong just to my fantasy?
As I grasped that these people were standing in a line...at the closed door of the charitable institution, the lens of my camera in a reflex action focused on above the heads... and sky picture gifted some light to the back street' story. Just look below.

Here I am with my grandson Simonas. He is two month old already.
The same question "who am I?" bother us both, yet we put the different meaning into these words and thus we enjoy the different pictures while rejoicing at the same light.
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