Everyday, I see people stand in line for food.
Some of them come with their little ones. The small rascals cling to their clothes like pollen, yelling in their ear, attempting to get their requests heard. I look, baffled, thinking, "The things we do to live one day at a time."
In truth, I’d prefer to bypass the lines that form around the things I want. But I guess that wouldn't be living. I guess we have become such a complex species that we are unable to live without complications. Why? I don’t really know. My best guess is that our complications breed the thing we call 'hope.'
What a weird group of people we are.
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