I live under a bus. It’s dark and damp, and filthy here. There are huge rats that live with me. I try to crawl out from under the bus to see the sun. I never make it out. The vile rats sink their teeth into my feet and legs, and drag me back. My blood mixes with the dank, stinking earth.
Four spirits are always with me. They constantly remind me of why I am here, and why I cannot escape.
There’s no hope for me. I’ll never see the sunshine again and will die here, in agony and misery. And hopelessness.
I am Benghazi.