Doesn't mean I'm not tired; doesn't mean I'm not hungry. But I get a meal, and a bed with a goose-down duvet.
Tired? Yes. Hungry? Yes.
Fortunate? Unbelievably, randomly so.
Time to wipe the dribble off my chin and BUCK THE FUCK UP.
Over and out.
Monday 27 February 2012
Day 115: Buck Up
Home after a long day - tired and hungry. Nothing left in the batteries as I slump on the sofa, mouth slack and eyes glazed, watching the news.
A report from Kabul, looking at families living in poverty. Children up at dawn, working fourteen hour days, scavenging for discarded plastic and metal to sell, and grazing their sheep where they can (on rubbish tips). School a distant memory. One meal per day. One room per family.
Doesn't mean I'm not tired; doesn't mean I'm not hungry. But I get a meal, and a bed with a goose-down duvet.
Tired? Yes. Hungry? Yes.
Fortunate? Unbelievably, randomly so.
Time to wipe the dribble off my chin and BUCK THE FUCK UP.
Over and out.
Doesn't mean I'm not tired; doesn't mean I'm not hungry. But I get a meal, and a bed with a goose-down duvet.
Tired? Yes. Hungry? Yes.
Fortunate? Unbelievably, randomly so.
Time to wipe the dribble off my chin and BUCK THE FUCK UP.
Over and out.
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