Sweet kinda slum

We have a good problem.

Moving through the dirt in the air, my bike curses the broken road. I suffer a jitter in my lower back after buying 4 dozen of bananas. Clean bananas, seedless they never disappoint. But this treat is not to satiate my palate, this treat belongs to the love we don’t see.

If you like the concept of reading between the lines, I say you should advance to seeing the omnipresent force of love that can be ignited in no time. All it requires is capital, a bit of free time, and the biggest ingredient, knowing oneself.

These kids along the roadside are special. They are everywhere, living in poverty, at times getting deficient and falling sick with siblings, but at least they find the fun every day. Here is my crying bike.

One look…. pull up to the side of the road. And a shout to those kids….Han!!!

Here…. come…o … .

They come running dropping the steel glass like it’s a thing of yesterday. Their mothers, smiling. And of course, the dirt-faced infant who got left behind…cries in abandonment.

As I take out the bananas…`One by one.

I move in slow motion to see each kid’s face lit up as they get a treat each….

Move back, gulp, and come back for another. Truly amazing, how each can suffice in just the slightest things. Living in the dark, but faces still lit. As if singing the tales of true freedom.

Can there not be a drone facility to drop these treats while I sit back at home? Zoop Zoop my fingers on the console me on the sofa, the aroma of the tea of win. QR codes damnit. How come there isn’t this facility yet?

Oh, they vote but don’t pay for the elections. Take my money dude. I wanna drone those bananas to those kids.

I mean yes the bike was a beacon of light but still. My back…