Walking off the 7 train at Flushing Main street, swarms of people hurried towards all directions. The neon signs, the large billboards, merchants yelling at the top of their lungs trying to bring more customers to their stand. Flushing was a magical place, where memories came together. The fruit stands right across the street, and the bubble tea shop with a long line up, similar yet steadily the images slowly overlapped with a street from my past. Stopping occasionally at certain intersections and stands, the people of Flushing created a unique flow. This flow flowed through my memory as the images overlapped even more. Yes, there was a street in my past, the street right beside my elementary school. Where I amongst the others would fill the street once we were dismissed. We stopped at certain stores but soon moved on to another. Below the trees, under the scattered sunlight, we moved like storm, gathered like clouds as the owners smile while handing over the change.
