Passengers. Have a heart. For the homeless, the landless, the forcibly deracinated, the viciously pushed around, the thoughtlessly bulldozed, the despised, the lonely and the ignored. For all the declared non-persons in cold blood by the bullies of the global playground, just because they can. And for the Palestinians, for the First (soon to be Last) Australians, and the Chagossians, dying of broken hearts in some begrudged shanty corner east of Madagascar.
This is, again, for Zoraida aka Arsaytoma. I miss you and your drawings, girl.