The trash from the slum is the refuse of the refuse. The slum grew up around the dumping ground of the well-to-do, and is minutely combed through by the slum’s denizens. What is left to be carted out, no guard would deign touch.
So, our friends covered Elijah and me with the most foul-smelling and messy collection of trash possible.
And thus we took our leave of the metropolis. And after cleaning up in a safe place and a change of clothes we were on our way again.
Elijah is confident that Jordan will bear much fruit to the glory of the One. And I am glad at the prospect of seeing our friends on the ship.
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