If this diary finds you, build something. Not a wall. A door.
We don’t run away from death. We scoop it out with our finest possessions.
If you are reading this, and you have a house key on a ring in your pocket, please understand: I am not a burden. I am an export.
Note to the reader: This entry was found sealed inside a plastic bag, wedged between the inner and outer hull of a deflated dinghy washed ashore on Lesvos. The ink is smeared, but the pencil marks are legible.
Tonight, the stars are very bright. The coast guard’s light is a white dot on the horizon. It might be rescue. It might be return. I don’t know which is scarier.
If this diary finds you, build something. Not a wall. A door.
We don’t run away from death. We scoop it out with our finest possessions.
If you are reading this, and you have a house key on a ring in your pocket, please understand: I am not a burden. I am an export.
Note to the reader: This entry was found sealed inside a plastic bag, wedged between the inner and outer hull of a deflated dinghy washed ashore on Lesvos. The ink is smeared, but the pencil marks are legible.
Tonight, the stars are very bright. The coast guard’s light is a white dot on the horizon. It might be rescue. It might be return. I don’t know which is scarier.