This may be my last word, even if it isn’t, maybe my last days. Anxavina Ville was a cheerful town, but war came and did its thing. The new factory, now devastated and burnt, was our place to work. Now we are staying away because of the incessant whistle of bombs, with their silent planes. While I write this and starve, I can see those metal machines coming out of the hills, shooting their deadly cannons to whatever moves.
People are dying because of a few politicians and dictators, but they only bark as in a dog fight.
Nugget Bubble