Sorting through thoughts. I stare at the computer. I spent this evening organizing V-Day information and trying to contact some women’s shelters in Zurich, Winterthur and Schaffhausen.
I don’t feel like emailing. I don’t feel like blogging. It’s not that I’m not thinking. I’m also just doing.
French television creates the background sounds for a mostly silent evening. Eventually, I will pick up that German I learnt over seven years ago. But I will study French so that I have a language that will get me somewhere when I leave here. France. Africa. Morroco. Unicef. Amnesty. We’ll see. For now, this is where I be.
Yes. There is more than one side to every story. There is more than two and truly, every story exists in their own right to the person who tells it. It is their reality, even if it makes no sense to another soul. Everyone wants a voice. And everyone wants to be heard.
And now I’m going to take a bath and clear my mind. Or read. Or both.