Bill Armstrong

Heart Felt

The muggy gusts of air brought the smell of swampy decay from the closest fermentation station. Mixed with the acrid fumes from the incinerator stack, it melded into an acidic soot, which burned the eyes and tasted of rust. Mother would tie scarves around our faces to cover our noses and mouths on the incinerator days. It helped suppress the coughing attacks from breathing the air. Four blocks to the Block 6 youth center where I would train to become an incinerator or fermentation laborer.