The

Taxi

“My children would have loved me more, my wife would have fucked me harder, my brother would have announced my arrival at his motherfucking of a son’s wedding with pride, Only if I had more money!”

Driver rolls down his window lights on his cigarette (although he never asked but I did not really mind), and puffed out smokes with much sigh, rolled up his sleeves and started his hunt for a new set of passengers from the roadside.

“You know what’s the fuck up thing about that? it doesn’t even matter how you got the money, I could be kidnapping passengers selling their organs and be rich hence have respect, but no I drive twelve hours a day, pay university tuition fees for my kids and feed my family but I have got no goddamn respect.”

This heart wrecking philosophy lecture of a cab ride with the smell of burning cheap tobacco and knowing that the driver has kidnapping plan ready as a backup plan made me experience the limits of human sympathy and it’s lack of efficacy.

“You are right, life sucks big time” – once again I fail to sympathize with a random stranger who has opened up. Despite my wrecking heart I continue sounding like a heartless bastard with my.

Fortunately it turned out the driver didn’t really give a shit about my insights on purchasing power,poverty and it’s correlations with social status and respect. The pain was so sever it could have been fly in that car and he would have opened up to it.

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