walked straight down the street, obviously leading us to the next corner. Here we only expect three alternatives. Left, right, or forward. Nothing out of the predictable, no way different from what others have done before. Again the same routine repeated for generations and generations. Too much monotony. Exactly the same monotony reigning in our lives.
The street becomes a sense that expresses symbolically that we are trapped in this prison called the city. They are all mirrors of all. All the car up the misfortune to follow the path of unhappiness. A street reminds us that we can not escape the fate imposed, the daily torture of doing the same thing over and over again. It is a limitation of freedom, determines our movement. Walk only in four directions, we can not afford the adventure of riding without borders, to move where we want . We are invalid. We limping through life, dreaming of flying like birds, but could not even walk like a turtle.
else can we ask of life if we are willing to walk the streets of righteousness, if we go by where we say that we walk. How can we expect to not be who we say we are?
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