The 'Drama Queen'

You rush, hussle and bussle and rampage. You don't stop to consider. You don't reconoitre and assess, or take advice. YOU and only YOU have the answers and are always infallible. You don't talk to somesome and ask ...and then open your ear and hear and carefully listen. CAREFULLY, an odd snippet might me a gem. You DO talk, but you don't listen. Listening is the first attribute to learn. Listening first talk question query and discuss later. Listen attentively, empathetically, with a meaningful humane and compassionate face, NOT and self-induced photshopped mask, but a real one, if you have such a tool. Hear people's overview of you, your mood, your self-presentation, your attitude and the vibes you give off, yes hear that first. And then begin to talk. And the beginning is a question always, and not an answer. The very first sentence is a question, why?. Probing and understanding, really comprehending deep down helps begin a series of routes into empathy. You relate, you begin to understand what other people's priorities might be, their concerns, their foibles, their thought patterns, their aspirations - small and large, narrow and wide, about emotions, family, safeguarding their lives and their loved ones.... Gerrit? You don't do you? Well it IS to late, not 'it's never too late'. It is! And in the meantime you have ucked up what you can. And it will all end in tears. And .. in this your attegiamento you drag others in and your envelop and suffocate, you use something akin to munchausen to do it. Recognise. You will not, for you are so far alienated from this planet, it's self inflicted me duck.
BBC programmes on poverty. New series.
I have a gross advantage. I am blessed and enriched beyond my dreams by it.

'IT', if you wish to know, is 'an understanding with poverty', and I have FOUND in me, an EMPATHY' ... for the poor.
I have found it in me and it guides me always and helps me hobble along life

I keep it to myself, tucked away crumpled in my portmanteau it rests, slumbering but alive. I have managed to sit with them, and then do something, a little just a teeny weeney bit, in Agegunle Town. Agegunle. In the prison, in the madhouse and in the slum. Not much, just a little. You will never feel it, Agegunle, you will never know it. It would help, might help, you see other facets of people's lives mingled mangled mashed and miseried. Yet you affix yourself solely on the mirror image you see of yourself, your true self, the only self you want to recognise is there in that mirror. The reality is you, according to you. Wrong my friendless feindly friend, my never friend. Incorrect and twisted I regret.