Like sitting on top of the world

Poem

Dead, they become the dust of the slums;
Alive, they are the embodiment of their cities;
Rushing across, frantic, limbs waving, they scream to the heavens…
Seeking what should not be, to be.

Zashnain

An avid blogger, twitterer and photojournalist, Zashnain Zainal suffers from an incurable addiction to social work, helping marginalised communities since 1989. Nowadays he travels from the plantations of Malaysia to the slums of Thailand. He can be found at zashnain.com and @bedlamfury

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