Fear of Poverty
I’m 15 years old. I’ve just arrived home after school and I’m standing by the side of the couch staring...
I’m 15 years old. I’ve just arrived home after school and I’m standing by the side of the couch staring...
Dillon’s in the street raking up pulled weeds. I step out to check in on him. And, he begins. “Dad,...
It’s the end of the day. A long day. I’m tired. Spent. Drenched in sweat. Done. Ready to go. Shades...
Dillon grips the wheelbarrow’s wooden handles and starts to wheel away. “Too fast” I tell him. He ignores me and...
It’s hot. The ground is fissuring. It’s only 7 am and I’m already sweating. I twist the handle of the...
