I huddle in my room, amidst my stacks of books, near my little bed, piled high with warm blankets.
There is nothing urgent in the air around me; people drive their cars to work, to restaurants and movies, shopping, or further out to nature trails. It is calm here.
I am not waiting for NATO forces to decimate my town.
How can I wake myself up? On this vast island, which seems so far from invasion, bombs, war.
That daily, nightly condition, tremors through ground and body, fear, incipient, constant, in your veins, waiting, packing, securing, scurrying, wringing, panicking, not hungry, having to eat, wondering what’s the use, where can you go, how, how…how to Live…
It’s inconceivable. The radio goes on, the talking goes on, the laughing goes on: Hey, are you coming over for dinner? Hey, are we going dancing?
And I don’t even want to leave my room, in this safe little town.