Peering out of the stranger's cracked glass window, my eyes grasped the poverty-stricken view of Soweto. A sudden wail startled me as a nearby child began to cry loudly, while his mother ushered him quietly. The atmosphere seemed thick, almost heavy with dust and the sun shone directly above, it's scorching rays falling on the simple man-made huts below. Not far away children were running around, on the muddy, orange ground, squealing happily. Although the squeals were of joy, I could sense the heart aching sadness that weighed heavily on everyone's shoulders. An old lady, her strands of silver hair, tied tight into a bun, was slowly falling asleep, her head drooping forward and her eyelids closing in defeat. The view was heart-wrenching, filthy and unimaginable. Especially to know that the only source of water came from the filthy pond that lay by the marshes and that food was scarce. A slim boy, with an oversized shirt walked to a hut, malnourished and frail. How does everyone here survive? A pang of hatred twisted in my chest. I hated seeing this. It was unjust!
While glancing outside my own widow, I took in the lush green if the wind-swept leaves dangling form the thick, brown branches and the overgrown hedge being snipped down by a middle aged man, wearing wiry glasses. The air was calm, except for occasional gusts of wind, the driveway covered with different coloured, expensive cars. The atmosphere was clear and fresh, the canopy of trees drooped down, while the sun's rays fought hard to get through the slits between the branches. A bustling group of teenagers laughed , back from a local party, their faces lit up with joy. I smiled as I watched the party goers walk by as it filled me with immense joy. As I turned around, I saw the view of my cosy, well-lit bedroom with my white bunk bed sitting on the right, the mattress so comfortable! the plush, cream carpet gave me a sense of belonging, of being at home.