Building bridges, not fences

“We’re too isolated these days. It used to be that you knew who your neighbours were, not just the houses next door but right up and down the street! You knew everyones names, what they did for a living, what they got up to when they though no-one was looking!”

Kate shook her head as she contemplated the decline of cohesive society for the second time that day. It was a tragedy, the old man, 96, living alone these last 26 years in the same house passed away and no-one, not one person noticed! For five weeks! The thought brought a flash of anger, of indignation at the sorry state that her street, once vibrant, full of life, a street where kids were in and out of each others house all the time, where soccer in the road was a fifty-a-side affair that lasted hours, where she had grown up, was changed so utterly, the very fabric of society torn, shredded…

She shook her head…

“What was his name anyway?” Julie enquired as they stood together putting the World to rights.

“No idea!” Kate replied, and this time it was Julie who shook her head…


About Autistic writing

Im 46, autistic and vocal about it, a specialist autism mentor in higher education, embarking on my MEd in adult autism, autistic advocate and campaigner, writer and co-founder of asP - the autism strategy partnership #differentnotdamaged #askaboutasP

2 thoughts on “Building bridges, not fences

    1. Thank you, I consider that very high praise indeed ๐Ÿ˜€ I strive for meaning and thought in my writing, generally unsuccessfully I’m afraid, but that’s part of my learning process I think? Really do appreciate the feedback ๐Ÿ˜€

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