By Candy Ray
The letter from the charity said: “Thank you for donating. Now these people have clean water.”
“Show me what you’re reading,” demanded the intruder in my lounge. So I did.
“Is that your job, working for those people?” he asked.
“No,” I replied. “I work in a gift shop selling trinkets.”
“If there is hardship like that somewhere, everyone should be sent to work at the trouble spot until the problem is eradicated,” he pronounced. “Only then should they return to more frivolous pursuits like selling trinkets . That is how we would do it on my planet.”