from the main thoroughfare, most already closed down for the evening, though she can espy a handful still attended by purveyors and patrons both. She is of half a mind to approach them, perhaps to seek directions, guidance, or pity, but something in her keeps her feet resolutely moving on past the the bazaar.
Beyond the market square, the city opens into a sprawling expanse of housing. For the first few blocks, the homes are modest and densely packed together. Most, like the rest of the city, have seen some neglect over the years, as well as patchwork repairs. Moreover,
Just Another Struggling Writer 
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