Diamond bracelets and boulder necklaces hang their expensive weight on the rich and famous, animals killed for clothing and snakes skinned for shoes. A woman shows her success by wearing all that trophies on her body. She walks on the street, her nose high in the clouds. She walks in a beeline, just like she was taught in prep school. Her Jimmy Choo’s kick something soft as she lowers her eyes to see. A young mother, old and haggard with hair crumpled and dry clinging on to her baby, skinny and asleep. A bowl in front of her, with four dollars in it gives her the promise of maybe a meal for her and her baby. The woman now in disgust as she bends down to inspect her shoes for dirt, looks at the mother in disgusts and walks away. “Trash” she mutters under her breath as he stops a cab with her shiny red painted fingernails.
A man fresh out of community college waits in line for the bus to work. Today is his first day at LeoBurnett Advertising. He cluthes his torn bag as he fights his way to stand on the shaky sardin cramped bus. The stench of sweating passengers stick to his shirt as he pries his way out the tiny door. His tie is crooked and his is late. He takes the elavator up and receives stares from the neat and tidy. “I need this job” he think as he pictures his mother selling fish in the market and how she has suffered for him and his sister. His boss, barely legal to drive a car walks in. The smudge of arrogance plastered on his face as his assistant carries his briefcase and and Starbucks into his office. His Ferragamo tie was neatly done on his white-striped Versace shirt. His Ralph Lauren slacks were shiny and ironed to perfection. He was Mr Burnett’s son, the new Vice President. The quiet son of a monger watched silently as he work the photocopy machine.
.JPG)
