Creative writing Belonging

His haggard elbow protruded from beneath a thin brown layer of skin, its tough texture coated with blistering sweat sparkled underneath the unmerciful sunbathe as he leant against his cab. We exchanged glances and spoke in native tongues. As he spoke his skeletal fingers flick the sweat soaked haircloth from his eyes. Pointed towards the trunk and flung my Pravda luggage beneath the hood. He sour on the radiocommunication to a soft Vietnamese melody and headed towards my grandmothers home.I sat in the ass, watched the transition sceneries In an alarm- conditi atomic number 53d cab as if they were a movie. I watched as the pale clouds enveloped the sky, engulfed the sun and s palisadeowed my everyday worries. Below on the grassy paddocks kids sr. around 6-7, with bent backs and lifted barelytocks, worked for their daily meals, knees deep in indistinct water, fingers groping pitifully against the blood sucking leeches. Their among la, straw hats, hung oer their eyes, their no-count pupils dilated and fingers numbed at for each one plunge they make Into the murky water.As the driver pulled over at a gas station, got out and headed towards one of the teenage rockers an white-haired man limping with a twisted leg, held raffle tickets In one hand while the other hung mutilated and broken by his side. He begged and begged with a cracked voice choking on each word that sipped from his lips, Plea, please I beg of you. Leap me, MME poor. I take in nothing. HIS elongated fingers slipped by means of the window and begged for money. I stared at his desperation In disbelief, and handed over 100,000 dung, five dollars Australian money.He bowed and bowed as he walked off, glancing back with thanks In his eyes. As he left, more(prenominal) and more beggars started to gathering the car, In pure panic I furled up my window and watched In disgust as they slammed and rocked the car plead for money. They were Like zombies In an apocalypse. I hate this. I hate t his place. I held both hands over my ears, shut my eyes and started humming. The driver emerged from the crowd and do his way towards the front seat. We covey off leaving the get word of poverty behind us. The driver turned and called out to me.HIS deep vivacious voice contrasted against his outward appearance, he tapped me and told me that we had arrived. The vivacious azure colored wall winked at me, welcoming me through the door. There grandmother stood with open arms, she napped back my fringe and gave me a warm reassuring kiss that wiped out-of-door my Jet lag and provided me with the comfort that I missed. The warm embrace make me forget the poverty that was Just on the other side of the wall. It made me realism that even If I worried about the poverty that existed outside, I could do nothing to help It.And soon the worry had disappeared. Nothing but the lingering warmth remained. Grandmothers home. I sat in the back, watched the passing sceneries in an air- dilated and f ingers numbed at each plunge they made into the murky water. As the workers an old man limping with a twisted leg, held raffle tickets in one hand while you. Leap me, MME poor. I have nothing. His elongated fingers slipped through the window and begged for money. I stared at his desperation in disbelief, and he walked off, glancing back with thanks in his eyes.As he left, more and more gears started to crowd the car, in pure panic I rolled up my window and watched in disgust as they slammed and rocked the car begging for money. They were like zombies in an apocalypse. I hate this. I hate this place. Made his way towards the front seat. We drove off leaving the image of poverty behind us. The driver turned and called out to me. His deep vibrant voice contrasted other side of the wall. It made me realism that even if I worried about the poverty that existed outside, I could do nothing to help it. And soon the worry had disappeared.