Pollution is as much a treasure as it is a curse
It’s never an easy feeling being uneasy about being late for work. If that was the only issue I would be happy on entering. Ringing here and buzzing there, as machines whir and phones blare. Making decisions in this cacophony is more than a trifle. As I plod through the humdrum of this madness, stream of consciousness swings me to another time.
Pencils of light crept over rustic monuments as they usually do, greeted by cooing and crowing birds. Little footsteps would make light work of skipping through this den of treasure. School was only an hour from now, but a family must be fed. Nib and Nap were already on their way out with sacks and smiles to boast. It seems they made a great find.
I was glum with jealousy as the silhouette of their sacks looked like some form of half worn machinery and a ball was apparent too. I always wanted a ball. If I never had to put out those goats and feed the baby I would be fine.
School now only half an hour away, I could tell now because the sun had now mounted what would have been treasure, had it not been compressed by years of other treasure laden on it. I missed the trucks again. I could hear them shifting gears and churning out smoke as they disappeared over the horizon.
As I sat in a heap, I dreamed of a palace were all around me what lay would be new. The exposed springs of matresses would be certified comfy to sleep on it. I never would have to say I have never watched 'TV' there were enough here to convert into a mini theatre. It was hard to describe some of the 'stuff' as they were too mangled and compressed.
One thing I thought though, I would one day want to make a change were this would never be. As much as the treasure made us survive, mum, Hsart and I, Riverville's smell would always make me not make friends and everyone knew my clothes were not mine.
An alarm was made and the sound quite familiar, though I can’t remember the word, though I should being in the 5th grade, someone got cut by a metal nut and feared getting that word.
The scream of agony grew louder. Mr. Ega Brag wake up! I must have dozed off. It is bad enough that you are late but to be distant in meeting is just.. As he was about to complete his sentence a D.U.S.T and Town Planning team came barging in. Guilty as charged with one hand in the cookie jar. There was no use explaining. All the new machines buzzed and whirred while the old ones sat in heaps at Riverville, illegally retired.
#Improper #garbage #disposal