Faith Hope and Pure Pigheadedness
‘What’s your name?’ Simon asks kneeling down in the wet muck. He lets his knee hover just off the ground. Looking into the lean-to of shipping pallets and scrap plastic sheeting he see a pair of eyes looking back at him from a face lost mostly in shadow. The smell of the place is horrific but he’s known worse. He receives no answer. Taking his backpack off, Simon, places the large Ziploc bag next to the opening. ‘This is a care package. There are a few things in it for you. There is also...