Soon after walking for five minutes, they came to the end of the first lane with a left turn to the next. There were bare wooden poles guarding two abandoned walls. Both lanes weren’t well paved. Puddles and rocks were everywhere. Getting wet was unavoidable, however careful they were. All the way, no other people were walking, only a very few motorbikes passed them. The muddy, sandy water made rude, sucking sounds under their shoes. It seemed a desperate way for them to walk the hatred, which paralleled their dismal faces.