.
on my way down the hill from my class two days ago, i heard this girl talking to her dad on her cel phone and loudly complaining that she HAS to get a new set of clothes. her voice expressed desperation, and she voiced out frustration quite indignantly, as if her existence would come to cease if she doesn't feel new threads on her skin.

i just took a deep breath and walked away quickly. (as i felt a nasty urge to push her unto a puddle of water)

as i pass by the kerckoff gallery, brilliant pictures lure me... and so i go in and discover images from villages in nepal - captured by a journalist named Li Onesto. among all the photographs, it is the image of the women and children that particularly strike me. their stories deeply and painfully touch me and so i feel a need to sit down and write, and this poetry surfaces from that intense moment.

some infos from the exhibit that inspire my poetry:
because of the strife caused by the friction between the communist governing body and the people's army in nepal, desperation arises and every year, 5,000-7,000 nepalese girls aged 10-18 are sent to india by their fathers, brothers, or uncles (who own them) and sold as prostitutes for the prize equivalent to goats and cows. most of them die or come back home infected with HIV.

as i sit down, i not only remember those unfortunate nepalese girls, but also the pathetic los angeles college girl i encountered earlier. the dramatic irony strikes me like a dagger and tears almost rush out of my eyes.


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special thanks to li onesto for the picture and for the inspiration. [link]
link to amnesty international's report on the "people's war in Nepal" [link]