From the Portfolio-That Dusty Path We Walk

This story was taken from my portfolio (hence the name)which we were required to maintain last semester in my writing skills class. The class was shown a painting based on which we were supposed to wr

If there is one irrefutable fact of life, it is this, the human mind and body is far more resilient than most think. One need not look far for evidence of this fact.
The sun beat down on the city of Baghdad relentlessly. Shopkeepers slept on the verandas of their shops, fanning themselves languidly. Wind swept through the empty streets, picking up dust and paper, making it appear to dance. The hot, dry air swept down the street and into the houses and shops, much to the displeasure of its occupants.
A slow, rhythmic slap of slippers against the ground shattered the silence. A man walked down the street. A child sat on the mans shoulders, seemingly unperturbed by the heat. The mans face was criss crossed with lines of worry, yet there was a noble grace about him. The child's head rested on the mans turban; weary and disheveled, he kept nodding off to sleep awakening every few seconds with a sudden jerk of his head.
The duos worldly possessions were contained in a small knapsack, which the man kept by his side. As they walked past the many shops, the shopkeepers raised their heads or opened an eye to check who had disturbed their tranquility. On seeing the duo they returned to their cots with a half mumbled curse. Unaware, the man and child continued their way down the street. They turned the corner, and walked out of sight.
The sun dimmed. A cool, light breeze ran through the streets; children stumbled out of their homes, laughing madly as only children can. Dogs barked and raced down the street, snapping playfully at the now wide awake shopkeepers, who shooed them away half heartedly.
Light can be seen only in darkness. Good is born in times of evil. Sometimes Hope can walk the streets of despair.