Just in case anyone likes little stories and hadn't seen it and wanted to, here's a bit
What is real?
So thinks the boy; hunched up and cold. He is naked, frail, thin and dirty; with dark hollow eyes through which one could almost see his soul, but no-one is near. He knows not where he is going. He knows not where he has been. He knows only the thousand leering faces that greet him every night. In his confines there is no light, there is no hope. The boy crawls around this dead space, his hands eager to feel, his eyes eager to see, his ears eager to hear something other than his own pathetic cries.
Not so far away another boy is playing. He is clothed with a red baggy t-shirt, denim shorts and trainers, all of which are so clean that they appear to repel all kinds of dirt, and indeed all around him is spotless and perfect. His skin is a perfect white, his eyes a bright shimmering blue, so blue it seems the sky is nought but a reflection of them. He is out in the sunlight, in the wide open space. People are gathered around, and they are happy for him. This boy feels elated, he feels as if all the world is his, he knows no sadness and no pain, there is no night in his world, but endless sunlight and happiness. He too cries out, but with a sound of pure elation.
A third boy walks by, his hands in his pockets. He dwells between those light and dark places, neither here nor there. He hurries along, not heeding the greetings of the happy people, oblivious to the cries of the lonely child. He is trudging into nowhere, but he seems eager to arrive, as if it were possible to reach his infinite destination...
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