a knee - level view from your bit of pavement; a battered, upturned cooking pot and countable ribs, coughing from your steel - banded lungs, alone, with your face to the wall; shrunken breasts and a three year old who can not stand; the ringed fingers, the eyes averted and a five - paise piece in your
palm; smoking the babus» cigarette butts to quieten the fiend in your belly; a husband without a job, without a square meal a day, without energy, without hope; being
at the mercy of everyone further up the ladder because you are a threat to their self - respect; a hut of tins and rags and plastic bags, in a warren of huts you can not stand up in, where your neighbors live
at one arm's length across the
lane; a man who cries out in silence; nobody listening, for everyone's talking; the prayer withheld, the heart withheld, the hand withheld; yours and mine Lord teach us to hate our poverty of spirit.
300 degree views of ocean, dunes,
palm trees and Little Tybee from the spacious deck and the living room, water views from 2 of the 3 bedrooms, step off the deck onto the dunes, zero street noise
at the end of this private
lane.