Looking out my window as I open the windows air-lock system, I notice that the street fruit stall is open. The little old lady who runs the stall as well as helping at the restaurant across the street, that (I think) her daughter runs. This little lady sits there all afternoon and all night selling fruit if people want it ... actually just on the off chance that someone wants fruit and is closer to her than the numerous supermarkets, mini-markets and 24 hour shops in the same street. She strikes me as someone willing to do 50% more work to gain 20% more income because to her, the work is immaterial. I feel a little guilty being, and looking at the things that people like her have given my generation. I hope when she goes to bed at night, makes that little "finally I am in bed" gasp that seems to get longer and more heartfelt with age, she feels proud of what she has done.
n.b. The shirt in my street actually says "suck honey cock", I can't imagine how that is a mistake.
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