Light Years

By GerardRudolf

Man. Fordsburg. Johannesburg.

He was the only quiet space in the place. Around him: noise, families, crying babies, waiters with trays of curry and beverages, cell phones bleeping and ringing. He looked as if he was somewhere outside the room, somewhere outside his life yet rooted to the spot in his wheelchair. I could not ignore him. His silence was deafening - the loudest thing in that place.

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