"I wish I was never born!" was my usual complaint as we scatter through mounds of trash in this smelly mountain.
We pick up recyclable cans and glass bottles to sell in the junk yard for a pretty penny.
We wade through mounds of trash hungry and lost. Searching and scavenging through filth was our way of survival.
"This would probably sell more" my little brother said pulling out a large metal rod as we pick and scramble through sharp shards of glasses.
"Be careful with that!" was my usual answer. "We can't afford treatment from hospitals anymore if you get hurt" I said while carefully assessing if this large bottle is acceptable.
I stopped then looked through the huge buildings far away. They were so small afar yet so big when near.
YOU ARE READING
Happy Land
Non-FictionIn pursuit of happiness Rica, an aspiring writer dreams to flee from the cruel world she was born in.
