by Emiliana Silvestri

Created on: February 11, 2009

As she sat by her window gazing out at the world racing by, she couldn't help but feel repulsion at the greed surrounding her. Living in an affluent' part of town she was frequently subjected to those who live by the illusion of their own reality. She longed to evolve into somebody who could love everyone she saw, but the greed and aloof behaviour from her fellow humans raised a barrier that she could not allow to take down. So she wrote, she wrote so hard her fingers ached. She watched the ladies of town, clutching their glossy shopping bags..quenching their guilt with their fifty pence bag for life. She listened to their pointed toe shoes clanging on the concrete outside her window. She watched the drunken city workers staggering out of taxis, waving their arm in a patronising goodbye gesture towards the vehicle..... coming home after claiming to have been at a compulsory works drinking binge when the reality is, they chose to watch a voluptuous naked women gyrate around them whilst their dolly girlfriend (soon to be wife) sat at home using the telephone whilst arranging the ryvita and snackajacks appropriately. Truth is hard. Truth is god.

What was she to do? She couldn't don a loin cloth and roam the already destroyed planet. She couldn't head for the deepest forests and chew on bamboo amidst the beautiful gorillas. She couldn't join in either. She couldn't involve herself in a lie so verbose. Her infuriation towards advertising and media meant that she had neglected any form of communication that came from television or newspapers. She had no proof it wasn't true, except when she looked inside of her core being and knew instinctively that the truth was being withheld.

She was different, which confused her, because she was constantly being told that we were all the same. She realised that the financial wealth she had grown up amongst meant that she had definite proof that happiness could not be found in a material world. She only had to look into the eyes of the' takers' living in her neighbourhood to see the lack of real peace and joy. Every married man on her street had eyed her hungrily. Every married woman on her street had eyed her enviously. She promised herself never to become a taker. The car alarms made her gag and the increasing amount of Asian ladies walking white children and Labradors made her gut wrenching desire to heal ever more apparent.

She looked hard into the mirror. There was a vivid happiness shining through her, although a hint of sadness

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