Trudging through the city, and simply having to deal with the perverse gaze constantly on her body from the ever staring statue, Tiff looked between the rickety, pathetic hovels with a discerning gaze.
They were built with such little care, even the most drab slums in some of the poorest countries seemed like they offered better living conditions than these rundown homes, if they could even be called such things.
Rotten boards and wood scavenged from multiple places were bound together with mud, leaves and other foliage to create something that could barely resemble four walls and a roof, although none of them would be nearly enough to withstand even the slightest drizzle. A dreadful thing for a country known for being incredibly wet and raining 90% of the time.
