he was struck by the dignity,the 'curious' faith the tremendous throngs of people he saw seemed to have in life. in the race to reach first they could push their way through to get the seat for themselves, but they could also keep one hand to the chest and apologise for touching you accidentally with their foot a few seconds later.
the children were still children he felt. and thank god for that.
quite unlike the gun toting 12 year olds he saw in south america and the mother of 28 children he met in palestine, where mothers follow the vow to make more children for each man killed, word for word.
he didn't believe in God,but as we passed a particularly crowded curve near a slum where the women had put out charpoys and were brushing their hair,and children were squatting with plastic bottles of water by their sides rubbing their eyes and pushing their hair back, he started talking about God. maybe it was a God or many different Gods that made these people safe-keep the dignity in their daily living?
How could such large numbers not take the easier routes of escape?
.
.
.
.
.
The other day I watched a girl with sunburnt hair sitting by the side of the pavement with an older girl. They sniffed little bandages wound tightly around their wrists. They talked animatedly, and laughed.
She got up after awhile and spun round in a circle, her palms held open.
They looked like two girls having a good time.
light hearted
free
but they were sniffing glue..
I knew
and they shouldn't
they should focus
focus on making their 'process' better
i thought
i watched her spin again
and laughed out loud
i will never know her 'condition'
but I know how it is to spin like that,my palms held open
I know why I do it
who knows where God is.
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