The girl turns to her mother. She says something, but you cannot hear what it is. You think that maybe she will give you some money. You plead in the silence of your mind. You plead that she could please give you some money. Please give you some mercy. Please let you buy a morsel of food and water. Please keep death farther away from you. Please help. 

But the girl does not roll down the windows. She does not hand you a coin or a bill. She just continues looking at you with those haunted eyes of hers. 

You feel pathetic. You feel weak. You feel like you're falling, like you've always been falling, and at the bottom of the drop is sharp ice and freezing water. You feel so hungry. You feel betrayed. 

The traffic jam loosens and the car speeds away. Leaving you and your people there in the dust and the garbage of the streets. 

Anger boils in the bottom of your chest, where your chest meets your belly. One day this anger will mean something. One day this anger will change something.

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If you like this piece check out my Mastodon my account is FSairuv@mas.to and I post about human rights, social justice, and the environment.