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The Forgotten Class Of The Fading City
She's off work and she's walking home. She thinks to herself that a walk will be good for her, and indeed in many ways it will be. Get the old blood flowing. She'll have to make her way through some of the poorer quarters, but that's okay, she hasn't always been as successful as she is now.
To get home, you'll have to cross the river that divides the successful from the dregs. You'll have to look at their hobo bags and dirt-streaked clothing and acknowledge to yourself that should the machine break down and you missed out on even one paycheck, you'd be right there next to them. But why think of that?
Look them over. It matters nothing, they will not find it rude. They are used to the staring eyes of others and recognize that while every glance brings judgment and scrutiny, it also brings the chance for a quarter, or a wadded up dollar bill. The dollar bill could be straightened out, could buy a coffee. It is worth it.
They are a varied lot, but there is some sense of continuity among them. One can tell they come from the same tribe. One of them wears blue shorts that bear the logo of the 1984 Olympic Games, and a disproportionately large number of them are old men in girls sweatshirts. Black dust from burnt garbage stains them all.
Here's another interesting sight: the old man who sits slumped against the wall. Try to see beyond the wall. Just a few feet behind his sweaty back, people are still hanging on, are still getting it done, are still doing business, are still selling their antique engagement rings and cell phones. The game is still going on for them.
In spite of it all, she smiles as she steps to the edge of the sidewalk and throws up her hand in the bell sleeve and hails a taxi to take her off to the 'better' parts of the sprawl, away from the awkward reminders of how close she herself is to the edge, the gulf, the chasm which yawns open under the great city.
This is not just a city somewhere out there. This is your city! The line between those who are just making it by and those who have totally lost everything can be as thin as the capricious whims of a coffee shop franchise owner. This is a heavy burden for any one to carry, much less for all. When will the beast's back at last be broken under this yoke?
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