My eyes are tiny cameras, constantly clicking, flashing, storing. My heart’s a memory chip with unlimited space.
Is it possible to love and despise at the same time? Is it possible to yearn for home with a weary desperation, yet cling to a place I don’t belong?
Yellowy palm branches sashay to the cadence of a windy beat. Majestic mountains look down their leafy noses at poor occupants. A mother and her three children struggle along a steep road, a burden balanced on the mother’s head. Emaciated dogs roam trash-littered side streets. Welcome to Honduras, a country with immeasurable splendor yet tainted with poverty and despair. It seems typical, but that’s just the book cover. Inside there is a story, a personal story to each wrinkled man and shabby child. I’ve only read a few torn pages. I’ve pieced together scraps and scrawled letters, desperately trying to assess souls protected by barbed wire and concrete walls topped with scraps of glass bottles.
How do I leave, yet how can I stay?
It will never be the same. I will never be the same.
10 days.
2 comments:
Hannah!!! I've recently found your blog (via some mutual friend's name I'm forgetting). You only have 10 days left?! What's next amiga? I've recently returned from Ethiopia. I appreciate the words you've just written. Beautifully said. Bueno, mi castellano falta un monton! Seguimos en contacto, eh?
Hannah, I love your posts. They're so wonderfully descriptive. I know exactly what you mean. Enjoy your last few days.
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