I walk across the pavement cracks, by the homeless with broken backs, through the alley of broken dreams and I see the deficit of joyous gleams; tattered theaters that once stood proud are now replaced with wino's crowd... then I see a petite yet glamorous store, rich with gold, silver, and much more. Yet I can only turn to cry when I see the various goods I can buy; rare heirloom with a crescent moon, eighteenth century's sterling spoon, too I see wedding bands etched "eternal love", old school rings on the shelf above, Constellationsin jewel case... yet I see graveyards of moments in one place, aspects of life at one point sold for worth unworthy of stories told.