Thursday, October 4, 2012

A Town Called Home in America

by M. J. Joachim
Heading down Las Vegas Boulevard, she paused. What by all accounts was a time for celebration, took on a somber tone from her surroundings. Construction littered the scenery – unfinished construction with few if any workers earning paychecks from it. Fences and boarded up walls, faded “Keep Out” signs, and people…dozens of lost and broken people.

Walking through the casinos told the story of their plight. It revealed evidence of technology, paving the way for business owners to make more profit by hiring fewer employees. It revealed one last hope of hitting it big, or at least making enough to pay this month’s rent, as well as hundreds of empty penny, nickel and quarter machines, because Americans couldn’t afford to gamble their food budget away, especially with their last bit of change.

By far, one of her most tragic observations, was the man crouched beneath the base of a bush along the sidewalk. He had a small bag of food nearby, an old tattered blanket off to the side, and a tiny cushion of belongings he used for a pillow. His orange t-shirt was faded and dusty – a sure sign of the miles he traveled on his journey. Scrunched up, like an animal in a cave, he rested through the heat of the day. Merely a glimpse of many living on the streets, in a town called home in America.


That’s all for now, good people! Thank you for visiting my blog. J

M. J.

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Photo Credit: M. J. Joachim