The War Zone

The streets corral the blowing trash that rumbles along like tumble weed in old western movies. Walls stand tattered and weakened. Buildings in their skeletal forms stand as memories of a previous life. Businesses open and operational yesterday are abandoned tonight, doors left open, virtually nothing left inside except the darkness and the things that couldn’t be carried. Bombed out buildings. Hanging tattered signs. Open pits. Children running in the street, playing with trash and rubble. Hiding behind burned out cars and eating what they can find.
People going about their business as best they can… but operating without some of the basic essentials. Wearing the same pants day after day. Sometimes even two pairs just to stay warm.