Earth covering your shoulders. You try to shake it off, but there is enough to press you firmly down. Fighting seems like such an effort, isn`t it maybe better to just call this defeat? You feel your weakness, and are sure this can`t change.
People running up and down the streets, in rain, snow and wind. Always up, aiming higher. Best you don`t also. They deserve it more than you, and grabbing a ticket for the show feels wrong, you rather linger on the back, ushering others forward, giving them a gentle smile.
But the black, smelly earth is restricting your ability to push anymore. Your hand is broken by the effort, and you would never let anyone fix it.
It`s best if you just give up.
What would you do if somebody talked like that to your son?