I just saw a ritzed-up older woman driving by in front of me, unsure of where she was going, and felt something in me snarl at her for taking so long to get out of my way with her cushioned status.
Why? I wondered. This isn’t like me…
But, apparently, the feral part of me just having dropped off things to the Goodwill (and now reflecting upon such hardships experienced here) has just “Had It!” with feeling entrenched in poverty.
It’s only when you can finally leave a bad situation that you realize how toxic it’s been.
Candid Corvid Productions 