Sitting atop a high hill, the landscape rolls like a crinkled rug. Houses, families, pets and cars all within sight for miles upon miles. Homes, comforted by electricity, warmth generated by our hearts and love filling the air street by street. Yeah, it’s easy to adore the scenery.
My back however faces sheer corruption. Tattered houses, filled with holes. Ransacked to the frame, rain pouring in through the roof; only slowed by the overgrown foliage above. What little remains of the road make it next to impossible to drive straight. Families tightly packed like sardines into sad excuses for shacks at best. The love in the air replaced by fear. The next meal is never guaranteed. A lamp turns off, leaving the sickly alone in the room.
Looking down the middle of the border makes it an easy choice if you were to choose. But we can’t forget that some people need help too.