no prayer for dead gods

there i was in late middle age cut loose in a thoroughly looted, bankrupt nation whose assets had been sold off to foreigners,



a nation swamped by unchecked plagues



and superstition and illiteracy



and hypnotic TV, with virtually no health services for the poor.



Where to go? What to do?



Words: from Hocus Pocus by Kurt Vonnegut (1990)
Images: Jacob Whibley