From: Salvador Carrascosa




In my city, poor people are multiplying like rats. On my way to the bus stop, I always come across at least two of them, slow, grey, their heads bowed, dragging their feet. They are what I call The New Poor: they don’t smell all that bad, and sometimes they have a family. In the past, they drove a Ford and went on holiday to overcrowded beaches. They didn’t have many hobbies, they read the newspaper without pausing all that much, cared about football and could count their friends on the fingers of both hands. Today, they’re trying to keep their dignity intact, without realizing that doing that only serves to make them even more pitiful.

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