No Gain, Pain

The rain pounded on the glass, insisting on finding a way in. Pushing my finger on the cold surface of the glass, I traced the path that it was making on the window. The squeak took me back to my Physics lesson. Mr. Pakdel had a scientific theory for describing each and every event. "The friction pulls the skin out of shape, sliding the finger on the glass causes the skin to spring back to its original shape. The squeak is the audible sound wave created due to these distortions." I wonder how Mr Pakdel would have described the migration phenomenon. The crisis is a reaction equal and opposite to the action of powerful countries' greed. The distortion of wealth from the countries with most of the underground resourses to the "civilized" countries, causing people to move towards something that might resemble life. 

 Dear small drop of rain, how scared or in how much of pain are you that even my dark and damp apartment could be a refuge? if I were you and travelling with the clouds were my other option, I would have never landed down here. Were you, like me, running out of options? Keeping an eye on the clock, I hurriedly drank my second cup of tea, made with the previously used teabag. The clock hand, showing seconds, was dashing around whilst the other hand remaned still. The first amount of money that I save I will buy myself a digital clock. I don't like to constantly be reminded of the unjust division between hands which indicate seconds or hours, insignificant verses important. One runs around like crazy to make sure the other can remain motionless for as long as possible and only shift slightly when it had to. Still the time is announced by hours, the seconds remain unnoticed. Throwing my bag over my left shoulder, I put on my mask and headed out. 

 Breathing rapidly, inhaling the inner layer of my mask and a waft of cinnamon, I tried to ignore his angry tone of voice. 'What do you want from us? Your lot are everywhere!' This was not what I expected in response to my initiating question of "How may I help you?" My manager came out, telling the man not to insult the staff and in an attempt to calm the situation, she also asked me to go to the staff room. I went, wishing I had never come here. But how could I have stayed? Where would I have stayed?

Life seems to happen in the suffocating space between living in fear for my life and looking for a safe place to accept me. I have lost all I had and even gambled my life in order to gain access to a safe place that now I believe safety is a myth. It does not exist. Looking in the mirror as I was washing my hands, I noticed two deep lines on my forehead. The little space between my hairline and the mask was like a plowed piece of land ready for accepting new seeds and new growth. But, at least for now, this forehead can only give rise to distorted thoughts and nightmares. Maybe one day!

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