Plastic Bottle Mountain
I gaze around on the ground and stare at thousands of bottles underneath the bridge, I have been working and working non-stop. I flop down on all the bottles and I can see lots of different neon colours and brands, like fizzy drinks and soft drinks. I gaze at a sharp pointy grey knife that Mum is holding which she uses to cut the labels off the bottles and put them in the right basket. Six hours of boredom. “Can we go home now?” I ask.
The whole plastic mountain smells like a rotten egg. It is so disgusting I can’t breathe. I pick up a slimy bottle and I throw it in one of the big bags and it bounces off the bottom of the bridge. There are big bags of plastic bottles “I am never going home” I say to myself.