We are thirsty

They said they would give us water—so we came. We choked on dust, but we followed, our tongues hanging out in anticipation.

They gave us water. It came to us in shiny cups, glinting in the sunlight. We held out our hands, we held open our mouths.

But this water didn't quench our thirst.

This water cracked our dry lips, shriveled our tortured intestines.

Now we are more thirsty than before.

I have more portrait photography.  You can find it here.