artsy musings of a bibliophile

We all have measures of worth with which we regard the world, the people and their lives. But in the world Lynn lives, measures are not based on that. Not anymore. If you cannot bring yourself to protect what’s yours, you are as good as dead. It’s a dog-eat-dog world and a very unadulterated one at that.

Living in the basement of her home with her mother, Lynn has always followed a specific way of life. There is only one thing of the utmost importance: survival. They own a pond but it is an endless struggle just to get its water purified enough to drink. Cutting woods is another ordeal. But all of that is nothing when Lynn watches her Mother shoot anyone who’s close enough to drink from their pond. Lynn is indifferent because that’s the life she has always known. She doesn’t know right from left. She doesn’t know what a conscience is and for the time being, that is okay. Better even.

However, time demands many things from Lynn. Her shooting skills. Her watching skills. Her humanity. Life is a constant chip on her shoulder, something she has to look out for. There is no technology, there is no media and there is no electricity. The dangers are measured in the days that the smoke doesn’t billow to the south. Are they gone or are the coming for us? For our pond? These are the thoughts that occupy Lynn’s mind in a world where water is scarce.

Circumstances change and Lynn ends up in an unchartered territory where she learns humanity, conscience and compassion. One never thinks about these things unless someone gets hurt. But if Lynn can do it in a dog-eat-dog world, can’t we? Yes. But only if we stop to see, to think and to care. After all, we’re all trying to survive in all the different ways we can. Read Not a Drop to Drink and you’ll know what I’m talking about.