"A good name is better than fine perfume, and one's day of death is better than his day of birth. It is better to enter a house of mourning than a house of feasting.
Sorrow is better than laughter, for a sad countenance is good for the heart. The heart of the wise is the house of mourning, but the heart of fools is in the house of mirth."
Solomon, the Preacher
In the cool of the day on April 7th, 2008, the world was progressing into a new age, or so it would like to believe. A new age of social interconnectedness was upon the horizon as the digital age underwent phenomenal breakthroughs in not only mobile technology but also in digital media, sparking a boom in cloud share and media transference. The economy, however, was still reeling from their recent economic recession resulting in a net devaluing of the national currency. Aftershocks could be felt from Washinton to Wall Street to the federal reserve and the authoritarian oligarchs of the deep state economy. Naturally, as with all human errors, they would always be those waiting with zeal to exploit the poorly enforced rules that governed our national economy. What do you expect, Mankind is quite proficient in being their own worst enemy; anything for that quick buck, eh? Totally understandable.
Following the already unstable economy, the housing took at devasting hit. Home prices became more than double, the sharpest increase in the very history of our young nation. Mortage rates were at an all-time high. And like blood spilled in the deep seas, the sharks saw an opportunity, loan sharks that is. Unscrupulous lenders locked the desperate and uninformed in complex loans with hidden costs, jumping from clause to clause with practiced finesse and legal gymnastics. Simultaneously, gross domestic product dropped significantly, unemployment rates peaked, and major banking institutions, investment firms, insurance companies, etc. experienced a net loss that threatened a system wide economic collapse. And the ensuing domino effect? Bankruptcy, significant unemployment, economic decline that persisted for at least the next five years and of course the foreclosures of many public, private, residential and legal establishments.
And on April 7th, 2008, in a small unimportant district of downtown Brooklyn, there was a run-down orphanage built there. A small little building with fading yellow paint that now looks dull. Monochrome graffiti vandalized the sides of the building, as the peeling roof tiles presented itself in the backdrop of the poor neighborhood. Inside the building, there wasn't the cheerful sound of laughter as one might expect from a proper orphanage. The lights were dim, some broken, the smell of musty urine and faint cigarette smoke permeated the dim halls. The childing were crammed in small rooms, sleeping on bunkbeds worn down and yellowed. The staff can only be assumed to be the ones in old uniforms sitting on the steps, smoking. A man was off to the side reading a letter, a legal letter; the government funding for their orphanage has been withheld, immediate foreclosure is issued by the end of the month. The children older than 10 will be released on the street, the younger children will be transferred to the neighboring district.
And on that day, a young unremarkable boy of four years old was seated beside the small window on the second floor. His clothes, an old black shirt and sweatpants. He absentmindedly looked at the moving clouds, the shining sun, the flowing wind, expressionless, wondering why he couldn't have died on the day of his birth.