Early, early this morning, on our way out of Bed in
Malate, Joel and I saw a boy of 6 or 7 crouched in a corner, an electric fan and
a couple of friends attending him as he shook uncontrollably. Rugby glue
withdrawal.
Malate, Joel and I saw a boy of 6 or 7 crouched in a corner, an electric fan and
a couple of friends attending him as he shook uncontrollably. Rugby glue
withdrawal.
What could we do? What
could anyone do?
Bourgeois
proselytizing (don’t give money to beggars, they’ll just get used to it, where
are their parents, etc. etc.) tastes like lies, excuses, things we tell
ourselves so we don’t have to be paralyzed by the many, many tragedies that
surround us, so we can still tell ourselves, we’re happy.