dripping with wealth and eating 5 star food,
my desire is even greater.
I am sitting comfortably in a faux leather lounge, a timber table topped with a latte, iced coffee and vanilla slice.
Serviettes to dab crumbs of food away.
Dressed in fine threads of op shopped clothing, a Rare Bag promoting anti-cruelty to dogs, Haiviana thongs, clean underwear and a random assortment of jewellery.
I have the faint smell of deodorant and soap on my body.
I look around and see unfinished food and drink upon some tables.
Tables being cleaned with sanitising spray.
Staff in clean, ironed clothes that fits well, and shoes that appear to fit well.
I know there are sparkling, fresh toilets not far from the cafe.
There is free, clean drinking water if I opt for a glass.
This setting is a far cry from India and third world locations.
Images are permanently etched into my brain of people eating their own faeces to survive, going for days and days without food and drinking filthy water.
There is something more happening these days.
A restless stirring.
I am sick of being the one that does nothing as my soul screams to do something.
That time has come.
the homeless, the poverty stricken.
I no longer want that feeling of 'spoilt'.