Our cosy rickshaw sits at idle beside a grey curb, whispering for us to step aboard; more words uttered than our rickshaw driver. His blank eyes lead us to his wooden workhorse, his rotund face devoid of any emotion or interest in us.
Our cosy rickshaw sits at idle beside a grey curb, whispering for us to step aboard; more words uttered than our rickshaw driver. His blank eyes lead us to his wooden workhorse, his rotund face devoid of any emotion or interest in us.