Drooping shoulders, wrinkled skin. As if all the energy in them had been sapped. These humans in the bus, travelling with me no longer seem peculiar.
Fighting with hunger, cold and sheer monotony. Tired. Absolutely spent. Overwhelmed with sadness.
Sometimes I wonder, what's the use of making two ends meet like this?
But then I realise. Everybody isn't lucky. Or equal. Some don't even have a plastic spoon in their mouth when they are born.
But isn't this a double edged sword? Shouldn't work be stimulating, and life supporting. Is merely filling your belly enough?
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