Perspective

It is above freezing but not enough for the frozen to de-frost. The rain is coming down hard. Small streams are gushing over a layer of black ice that is covering the ground. Running is nearly impossible. The deeper the stream the less likely I am to slip. So, in the streams it is. Every step fills my shoes with another pint of ice-water. My feet are heavy and cold. Only 7km to go.

Jo was sitting on the beach of a Caribbean island. It was 27c and sunny. He was facing the sea, enjoying the light sea breeze. The smell of salty water and sea-weed distracted him from the stench of decomposing corpses. Still covered in dust, with nowhere to go and no one to go back to, he jumped into the warm bay. He was 11 years old.