She has shoes with holes, it’s raining, the toes squelch, she can hear the noise, she walks even slower, she is embarrassed, doesn’t want her friends to know. A dry table, a place to sit, a cup of tea or coffee, a few minutes to sip,
to rest, to feel normal, is like seeking perfection. Her home is now a dorm, her needs are met, you could call her lucky, her doctor tells her she is all right. A little mental instability, it spiraled, she lost control in a rage, picked up a bottle, lost her home, an apartment, when they sent her to jail. Lucky girl, it was one of those modern facilities; a case of a little business, when the Government farmed out the prison service, how you farm out care, is one of those mysteries, in a world seeking perfection. $$$$
Solomon read the old story tellers lament; the lack of literacy, and the inherent problems that it causes, and how its’ revealed in the prison population. No one cares said the old sage, it’s been like this for ages and gets worse as time lengthens. So many worry about the perfect smile, are the teeth straight, how can I get my lips to pout, do you think it would be better with highlights, the hair, do I really need a second face lift; choices.
It’s how you spend your time; seeking perfection, its’ the eye of the worrier, amen.