Svetlana

She can’t remember much of her childhood, a life spent travelling from town to provincial town, her parents picking up jobs where they could until something, as it inevitably did, went wrong. She tries not to remember the shouting and yelling, the men fighting, the women cursing, the pointing, the stares, the hasty packing of meagre belongings and the jolt of yet another train carriage. She has always been looked at, glances becoming stares. She is used to it now but it wasn’t always this way, she remembers moments of peace, childhood memories of dolls and quiet places. She knows she was loved, that her parents understood her life and how she was seen by others, she knew why they …

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Random Thoughts

When the train driver keeps us informed of why our train has stopped and how long it will be before it starts again, I don’t mind at all. When leaving the train, I actually felt sorry for the little bug that was trying to get out through the glass because I knew it’ll die on that train. I shouldn’t get mad at anyone but myself when I push the wrong button on the remote sending BBCi into a coma instead of flicking to the France vs Sweden Switzerland game. I should have left the pasta in the oven for another 5 minutes. When did I last pick up a book? Why is my back so sore? Why aren’t I going …

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