I’m looking at everything I use and wondering; Where did this come from? How was it made? What did I kill for it? So maybe I didn’t hold the knife but as a consumer, I am what feeds the system to continue doing what it does.
Gottingen itself was also quite pretty but I’m sure my impression was strongly influenced by the fact that I saw it on two lovely spring days with the sun shining bright and florescent green leaves peeping out of the distrustful trees.
A group of boys in faded clothes boldly share a partially used beedi and walk past the disabled artist who draws the same picture with chalk on the quiet road every few months. The vegetable vendor’s bare soles are dirty and cracked. But his eyes are bright. His voice rings out loud and spirited.