Cruisin'
God has a 'fro, and he's mighty pissed off at KL :)
When you're cruising down back alleys on the wrong side of midnight, many things are swallowed up into moving darkness. But just now, my eye snagged briefly on something: a house, windowed with crumbling slats shielded by a menacing tangle of barbed wire.
So emaciated, so impoverished that the luxury of metal grilles for the windows were out of the question.
Cruising past, my flickering glance caught the briefest flicker of shadowy movement in the middle window, and suddenly it wasn't just a house - it was someone's home. Someone was living there - that was someone's life, cowering behind thorny grating entrails.
Cruising past it in a sleek silver Toyota Vios, I tried to suck my head through my shoulders, into my well-fed guts. I felt like stretching my mouth over the bunched barbs and swallowing my ragged pride in large gulps of dark, real poverty.
When it comes down to it, I'm just cruisin' through life, really. I got it easy.
Oh, maybe I'm mistaken, maybe behind that jungle of thick wires and the shrivelled doorframe and the petrified slats and the decaying corrugated-iron ceilings and the flayed whitewash, the inhabitants are having a real ball of a time.
And maybe, well, not.