All the air that goes in and out of me is the same air you use. We’re all in this together.
But I’m sensitive.
I’m scared of offending.
I can’t tolerate talk back radio and loud voices. I don’t really like differences in opinions which is silly and I know that not everyone likes the same things as me.
I would like to be passionate about things but I don’t want you to argue with me.
I care about refugees and feel terribly proud that long ago my Granny was passionate about people being people.
We have enough room.
We have enough food.
We used to have enough love.
Or maybe we didn’t. Maybe we’ve always been scared of change.
Maybe like toddlers we don’t want to share.
I work with Muslim ladies and teach Muslim children. The majority of my class eat only Halal food. There is a beautiful big white mosque at the end of the road.
You know. Like the ones people visit overseas and find interesting when they’re sight seeing but they don’t want in their own back yard.
What are we all so scared of?
People are people. Or they used to be. Or they should be. They aren’t numbers on the news or numbers denied and discounted at press conferences.
Live a little. Learn a little. Love a lot.
And yeah… I know it’s not that easy and it’s not that simple but in an ideal world it could be.