september 20, 2012
i’m in a poverty-stricken part of the world. i think it’s mexico. i’m not sure how i got here or why. but i’m trying to communicate with the children. they speak spanish only and my grasp of the language is still sketchy. but someone speaks english and i feel a sense of desperation burst from within. i am hopeful he will speak in english with me but he seems preoccupied with something else. i think we’re in a shelter. but it’s filthy. the beds are covered in dirt and hair. the children look as though they haven’t ever bathed. a mother is trying desperately to make one of her children somewhat presentable. i feel ashamed.
i’m in a planning meeting sometime in the past. it must be shortly after woodstock because we’re talking about the future of the baby-boomers. i’m figuring out the best industries in which to invest. my diagrams and charts lead me to discover that pharmaceuticals and adult diapers are the way to go.
