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“I found no way to understand whether Dhaka looks by fixing its eyes in the glittering windows of buildings risen on the ground of poverty, or looks up at the sky, placing eyes upon the rugs of the dreams of children of shanty towns, to peer through torn roofs at desires like stars and the moon.”
― Suman Pokhrel

“Where were the convoys of motors rushing at a blind speed in the evening, when the so-called begging children, by stretching their palms more tender than flowers, were selling the future of this world for the price of their childhood?”
― Suman Pokhrel

“What was wafting in the smoke of burning tires? Where had time caught in the traffic jam not reaching?”
― Suman Pokhrel

“Walker, your treads are
the path and nothing more
Walker, there is no path,
the path is made by walking.
When walking, the path is made,
and when looking back
you see the path that never
has to be walked again.

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(Note: this quote is from a translation of a Spanish poem by Antonio Machado that Grundling encounters during his Camino)”
― Erns Grundling, Walk It Off