In the last few days I've slept better than I have in ages. My eyes have seen mostly greenery and water and I've soaked in so much of goodwill and bonhomie. I would've loved to go on and immerse myself in the unadulterated environment, where change seems to crawl. But I also know all this is a guest's privilege. Most of the households that I visited have their share of daily troubles, monetary and familial. I feel helpless most times except for lending an ear. Even where I can help with some money, there is propriety to be considered and once I do that, it feels like a labyrinth and I get frustrated enough to do nothing. I thrust some money into someone's hand, brushing aside their protests because I can see in their eyes how much they need it, and then they shed tears and utter some blessings and I just don't know what to say. I feel guilty, ashamed and make my escape quickly. In those times I wish I was 10 again, rummaging their houses for something to read, basking in all the affection they showered on me. Growing up to see this day sucks.
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