oh happy day she sings and arranges the yellow flowers in the pretty glass vase next she sets the table two cups and two plates cutlery and serviettes a jug of milk and a bowl of sugar a teapot and the cake that she has baked especially for today
Words, words, so many words. Where do I begin? Where do I end? What is my story? Do I have a story? Do I need a story? Is anybody interested in my story? It is only me who writes. Words, words, so many words.
she looks at the books on her bookshelf and begins to cry as every book represents one of her unfulfilled desires
she wanted to travel but did not have time she loves the idea of cooking but hates her kitchen she likes gardening but lives in a flat she dreams of being an artist but does not have courage she yearns to be happy but can never achieve it
the books on her bookshelf tell a story of failure of a life wasted and dreams not lived she therefore decides to throw out the books and begin afresh
she carefully chooses the flowers blue irises white lilies and yellow roses and arranges them in a vase she smiles with anticipation as she is waiting for him to come
She screams at me: You are such an egoist! You are not thinking of others and their feelings! You are disappointing us all! We did not expect this from you! I now need to protect my family. Do not come to visit us.
I wonder what I have done to get so severely punished?
Maybe it was my decision no longer to follow other people’s expectations and to finally live my own life.
she looks out of the window into a bright blue sky I have not heard from him for a long time she quietly says opens a drawer takes out pen and paper and begins to write slowly and thoughtfully