Kondele

there is an air of despair here a thick lingering cloud of hopelessness an amen to whatever life brings this air mingles with music too loud the smell of spirits and of cheap cigarettes its like a thousand blankets spread above this very sky in Kondele and under it where we sit a hot, pasty air hangs fills and clogs the lungs for so long you forget if ever fresh air did exist this place is full of contented poverty missing all the good things and feeling no loss people cruising through a life so full of indifference that being dead and living are one and the same thing