
Runners barefoot sprint through black mud against sheet metal as the stench of the open sewage rises. “Who lives here?”, I ask him. “Those without a choice,” he replies.
(along the tracks)

Runners barefoot sprint through black mud against sheet metal as the stench of the open sewage rises. “Who lives here?”, I ask him. “Those without a choice,” he replies.
(along the tracks)
Bo
I’ve been there! Wonderfully framed oat.
Jun 29, 2010 @ 6:22 pm