The spaghetti junction spread out before the old man looked like it would never end. The stars hid away under the black sheet of the night. He looked down at his beaten up old slippers with worn out soles and sighed. He scuffed at the old, dirty cigarette butts that littered the side walk. He watched the twinkling city lights of the Auckland city. Even the signs glinted in the moon light. The city was a spectacular at night.
The man scurried over to the park bench that layout before him. He stuffed his hand in to his rucksack; as that was all he owned in the entire world, and grabbed his one thin,weathered, small blanket that he was wrapped in when he was sent to the orphanage. Before he was sent to the orphanage how ever he was found in a small park bench just outside crying of starvation.
