A Hope For A Better Tomorrow
The air hung heavy with the scent of coffee and stale cigarettes as Lucas paced the cramped living room. It was a familiar scene - the cluttered shelves overflowing with books, the worn armchair where he spent countless hours poring over pamphlets and articles. Tonight, however, his frustration was palpable, radiating outward like heat waves. “It’s just…unjust,” he muttered, his voice hoarse. He gestured wildly with his hands, his frustration spilling over. “This system, this endless pursuit of profit, is designed to leave the majority behind while enriching a select few.” He stopped pacing, his gaze settling on a framed poster of Che Guevara, a defiant look etched onto his face. 'The Right,' he continued, his voice taking on a sharp edge, 'they cling to their individualistic notions, their worship of the free market, without acknowledging the inherent flaws. They talk about prosperity, about opportunity, but their version of the American Dream is just a mirage for most....