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Creative piece: Cry for me. It's my birthday

Shaky thin hands. Red nail polish chipping. Tears rest in a bubble.

‘Come on Laura. They’re lighting the candles!’ A small room filled with friends and family. Balloons.

‘Yes! I am coming! I love the red balloons!’ She said happily. A nice frilly pink dress hanging on a skinny frame. The frame of a child. Sweet blond curls.


It all feels so wrong.


Flash! You’re blind for one second, until you open your eyes and the whole family is hugging you. Warm arms grip you and superfluous smiles occupy the photograph. There is not much space for the pool inside of your mind.


They gather and gather, and you? What do you think? I think I think too much. I want to drown those thoughts. Can I Mama?


The cake has been so nicely decorated, by the lovely bakers from Eldewood. Three floors. She must have it all. Bright Pink whipping cream letters write : L-A-U-R-A.


‘Yes! Well done!’ Mama picks her up, and kisses her on the soft cheek. ‘My little Laura has turned five and she can read!’ Proudly parades her across the room. Kisses on the cheek. Sweet Strawberry cake.


It’s all too sweet. You become thirsty and wish to drink something. But there is no cup, no tap, no glass. Only a pool. Do you drink?


Photo by Ramazan Kamari/Flickr


Written by Tímea Koppándi.

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