where the embers sigh

You’ve learnt at least two languages while still in school. Then a third. A fourth. They’re slowly starting to merge together. You’re not quite sure what your native language is anymore.

There are people on the streets looking confused. ‘Tourists’, you tell yourself. It’s always tourists. That’s what your parents have taught you to think.

Your mother is still angry at Winston Churchill for something he said about your country during World War Two. She was born in 1970.

You’re vaguely aware of the fact that America is trying to build something in the countryside. Some say it’s useful, others that it’ll harm you. You know the truth. You keep quiet.

America is always there, just out of sight. Everyone hates it and resents it, but isn’t sure why. Few have gone there. Fewer have returned.

There used to be four seasons once, or so people say. Now there is little more but winter and summer. The winters are getting warmer. The summers are getting colder. You’re not sure your country is where it was before.

All your neighbouring countries hate you. You hate them too. A century hasn’t yet passed from the last war. Everyone tries to pretend they’ve forgotten, but they haven’t. They haven’t.

'The Lost Empire' by Frank Frazetta.

My acquaintance is in urgent need of funds to help move to safe and stable housing in a different state where his friends and chosen family can provide hands-on support and community.

His current living situation is exacerbating his health decline, the landlord refuses to do anything actually productive about the myriad of problems in the apartment, and a legal battle is inaccessible and potentially dangerous.

Ori is a kind, empathetic, and creative person. I'm fortunate to have gotten to know him before he stepped away from social media. He has been through so so much, but always pushes forward.

His close friend started a GFM on his behalf. If anyone can help, I would greatly appreciate it!