On the far side of the universe lies the planet Aquilon. Even in summer, snow doesn’t melt here.
Here, two worlds—“Upper” and “Lower”—are clearly separated and never intersect. My family is from the “Upper.”
My father was a respected member of society. Prestigious work, his own construction firm, holidays in warm countries a few times a year.
We lived “upstairs” as if it were in a fairy tale, and we considered it normal.
How were we supposed to know that on a flier’s one-hour flight away—“down below”—children are dying of hunger and cold?
That people die from terrible housing conditions and the absence of professional medicine?
Really, how could we have known?
We didn’t even care; everything was fine for us.
It was…