that old book cover ...

We're all pretty familiar with the old 'don't judge a book by its cover' line. It occurred to me that it's quite easy to drive around this little island and, even if some of the sights off the beaten track aren't close to perfect, decide that things are ok. That the house over there that may look somewhat run-down is still, in fact, an okay place to live. A roof over a head is a whole lot more than some have. 
Then I went inside. Inside one of those places that looks 'okay' from the outside. It is very definitely not okay at all. The first visit was just after it had rained for a few days. It was a challenge to find a genuinely dry patch of floor. Piles of wet towels here soaking up the water, puddles over there. The dreaded smell of damp. The mould covering the living room walls and ceiling. The feeling in my chest from breathing that in. The horror knowing that this mother and her little girl breathe this in constantly. From one space to the next, one sight after another, my heart sink further and further. That feeling of despair. That impossible feeling trying to imagine what this mother feels every single day. The ache in my heart listening to the mother describe the feelings of utter hopelessness and of just wanting to give up. 
All of this, hidden inside a cover that appears to be okay.  Never judge that book by its cover. There is simply no knowing what is on the inside. That inside hidden away from the eyes of all those who pass by. Never judge.