Читать книгу Over the Spiked Picket Fence - Angela Aloisio Sander & Denvil Buchanan - Страница 19

“We’ll talk at break,” I had offered the woman, thinking to myself, hmmm… perhaps there was a good reason for taking this course after all. This place was full of fine woman to pick and choose from, so many that it would make any man’s head and reason spin out of control. If a man wanted a woman, this city was the production factory of the world’s finest. Am I allowed to say that? Do I have to mind my manners?

At twenty-six now, I had made quite a journey from my small island hilltop village not far from where the river flowed into the wide open Caribbean Sea. At twenty-six I was at the beginning of a new kind of a pilgrimage, a kind of journey. Now here I was what they called a small entrepreneur, owner of a small fleet of taxis whose drivers hustled the lonesome streets from midnight to dawn across the cold and sometimes mean streets of the shimmering lights of the city. Tired of being told that I had needed Hog-town experience to get a living wage, I had gone back to school, to join the ranks of the new arrivals jockeying for positions in the fight to escape from factory and cleaning of washrooms. I had hustled and struggled to make it into the good times.

I remembered the days at college, sitting with this fine girl. Later I had come to realize that this was the forbidden fruit, and here I was sitting on the bench by the Japanese maple tree on the still warm days of September with this girl from the city not too far away.

“Individualism is the root of capitalism, this is the philosophy of Marx, practiced by the great nations of China, Russia and Cuba, ushering in egalitarianism and progress. Capitalism

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