There was no problem, no harm committed but my internal response felt like a huge load of pain, daggers thru my heart from an image outside of me, that didn’t belong to me, but a real moment, that passed through me. And a moment being what it is, it was gone. Faded away into the recesses of my mind until next time. Not to be processed, discussed or held on to. Moving on. No glass house. Today’s world, this life. (SMH). Damn.
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![IMG_0272[1]_edited.jpg](https://static.wixstatic.com/media/a52c7f_767d4bba3ef14ed0acdf93d3c4cb577e~mv2.jpg/v1/fill/w_114,h_114,al_c,q_80,usm_0.66_1.00_0.01,enc_avif,quality_auto/IMG_0272%5B1%5D_edited.jpg)
Jazzy T, what's the word?
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Concrete curbs are like the unsung heroes of city planning. They keep everything in line, from preventing vehicles from going off the road to enhancing the overall look of a neighborhood.