#exploitation cw

Everyone wants to write about god but no one wants to imagine their god   as the finger trembling inside a grenade pin’s ring or the red vine of blood coughed into a child’s palm   while they cradle the head of a dying parent. Few things are more dangerous than a man   who is capable of dividing himself into several men, each of them with a unique river of desire   on their tongues. It is also magic to pray for a daughter and find yourself with an endless march of boys   who all have the smile of a motherfucker who wronged you and never apologized. No one wants to imagine their god   as the knuckles cracking on a father watching their son picking a good switch from the tree and certainly   no one wants to imagine their god as the tree. Enough with the foolishness of hope and how it bruises   the walls of a home where two people sit, stubbornly in love with the idea of staying. If one must pray, I imagine   it is most worthwhile to pray towards endings. The only difference between sunsets and funerals   is whether or not a town mistakes the howls of a crying woman for madness.

@reverdies || thank you!

Ooh! I think Fantine was lucky in the regards that, while most people did not make an attempt to ouright adopt her, whether it be due to personal reasons such as lack of space or money — especially for those already in poverty — there was already a community formed amongst the poverty stricken. Those in the upper rungs of society never graced the areas of town in which Fantine ran barefoot with children in similar circumstances to her. Even if someone wealthier did come across her, Fantine was not worth their time or attention.

The poor had to be selfish to survive, no-one could blame them for that, but Fantine can remember those who gave her what they could (after their share, of course). Often, older women would take pity on the motherless child, clothing and feeding Fantine before sending her on her way. Although not educated, she could take advantage of an exploitative child labour; it was not well paid work, nor was it safe, but it allowed her a roof over her head and at least a meal whilst in various employ. Of course, as she grew older and became taller, she became unviable in that line of work, causing her to seek out other work such as farm work.

To have managed to survive infancy as she did, she must have had various people help her when they could; perhaps a woman who had lost a child and therefore cared for Fantine like her own. Honestly, Fantine can barely remember her earliest years. What she does remember is keeping those around her at an arm's length, trying to navigate the society she had been born into whilst simultaneously surviving by following unwritten rules.