mirrors my thoughts exactly
This should be the end of my Live Below The Line challenge.
Tonight, this should be all over.
But for people living in poverty, in forgotten households and pockets all over this, one of the richest nations in the world, there isn’t a store cupboard to go back to.
There isn’t a shelf with paprika and garam masala on, or a trough on the window ledge with coriander and chillies in.
There’s no magic cupboard of carefully built up resources to fall back on.
I remember those days all too well. Scratching around in the bottom of the fridge for half an onion and yesterday’s tomato pasta, cobbling together something, anything to eat. Picking the green spots off the side of a week old loaf of bread and pretending you can’t taste the sour yeasty tang that kicks at the back of your throat, because mouldy bread is better than…
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