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" One afternoon in the Haitian countryside, I was sitting in the yard next to a friend’s house watching her scrub her way through a tent-sized pile of laundry and not lifting a finger to help. Because I didn’t feel like it. Getting my hands all dried out from all that bleach they use, and half the time, I rub my cuticles raw and whatever I toss in the rinse bucket, someone pulls out and washes again. I was tired. I ended up staying plopped there most of the afternoon, sitting on the banks of the river of time, watching the laundry move, forgetting to get up..."
Date-stamped 10-1-12, but material is not tied to any particular date or event.