Encounters on the Exit Ramp, by Optimus Outcast

On Saturday morning, there was a person waiting at the busy exit ramp of the freeway. The shoulders were hunched and a nervous, almost painful, rocking on the feet suggested to any passerby that this person had been occupying the space for quite some time, imploring for donations. This could have been another trivial occurrence of the day, another detail soon forgotten, except the person standing there — that was me . . .

via Encounters on the Exit Ramp, by Optimus Outcast.

About Makere

A Maori/Scots New Zealander transplanted to Canada. Grandmother, academic, indigenous scholar, sometime singer, sometime activist, who cares passionately about our world.
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