The woman on the matted blanket examines me closely
I blush under her gaze
Why does my skin have to be so damned white?
She is probably thinking
What a badly brought-up, privileged brat
Who doesn’t eat her food herself
Who even shares it with flying vermin
The pigeons flutter around my feet
And peck for crumbs of bread
Don’t stare
Perhaps she’ll look away soon
She has a big nose and is barefoot
She must be cold
I no longer know who I am
Since starting the journey
I stray from station to station
Headless like a chicken
Whose heart beats in its throat
Yearning drives me on
To arrive somewhere
But I am afraid
That the only port
Where I can ever happily anchor
Is the port
That I left years ago
Is the only place
Where I can really exist
The place where I grew up?
With my family?
And now?
A stranger again
And deep within myself
I look again
The woman has disappeared.
