the peripheral view

Under the flesh of the darkness, the street was being voiced by the symphonic nuances, coming from the walks of two. 

The tiles on the pavement were broken. The shaking stones created a natural rhythm under the filled with rage steps. At moments it sounded as though lower and higher tones of wind instruments came from in between the fractured cement. Within a single second, the notes whirled high up in the air, crashed into the tall buildings, and already tamed, poured back onto the feet of the walkers. 

The symphony was ardent, as well as the walking musicians. 

And suddenly…

nothing happened. 

The two didn’t say a word to one another. 

The pavements talked instead of their mouths.