Not To Go With The Flow

I went out last friday. There was a horrible rain all over Bogotá. For me, it would only be a hair problem, a few drops on my jacket between my door and his car. Who knows if little villages would be struggling for not losing their beds and bathrooms under a flow out of control. Because, every time there's a short, almost unseen rain season in this city, we have horrible stories about rivers that wiped out villages, that killed children, but, to be honest, we never give a shit about that. We couldn't care less. We only try to survive, to go somewhere, to do something with our lifes.
It's all so horrible and so messed up around here, that taking care for someone else that is not part of our inmediate social circle, would be a suicide, would be to give a little bit of your own vital energy to someone else, and that little bit you lose, could be big enough to kill you.