Poverty is a magnification lens for the human condition. When we no longer hide behind our clothes, our salaries, our houses, and our statuses, all we have left is this flesh: Bruised, broken, fragile and in need of resurrection. Maybe that’s why we prefer to ignore it.
The bladder picks the most inconvenient time to voice it doesn’t want to leave a message.
Sometimes “leave me the hell alone” and “I’m lonely” are difficult to distinguish.
After riding a bus in Honduras, I really feel like I should’ve gotten dinner and a movie first…
That’s the vilest, disgusting, smelly…. Delicacy that I’ve ever been given… you brought the nausea meds, right?
Oh, so THAT’S how you flush that thing….
What language is that? Oh… English…. Right on….
Why is Aerosmith playing in an ice cream shop in Honduras?
Most common name the boys call me here: Ciento por ciento gringo. (100% gringo)… maybe it doesn’t help that my shirt says that…
Amazing! We all fit!
He either said, “The bus is that way.” Or “Don’t eat at that restaurant…” Either way, I think we should heed his information.
God may give you a kick in the pants, but not as a punishment. It’s to get you moving!
