Coming home Katharina never thought going back to her home town would be so difficult. It felt weird. Like being a stranger in a foreign village. The familiar sight of the iron bridge, the blazing neighbourhood at the other side. The pavement with the two bumps she used to avoid on her way home from school. The crooked sign at the edge of the cliff. The big oak tree beside the entrance to the bridge.Coming home by Gresskar
This wasn't her home anymore. Just a place she grew up in.
Even before stepping onto the bridge, Katharina could spot the white, little house with the white wooden fence. Green curtains in the windows. And lights. The flickering flash of a TV-screen in an otherwise quiet and dark street.
Katharina walked slowly. The wind caught her hair as she got on the bridge. Her mouth felt dry. Her palms sweaty beneath the gloves.
All the thoughts from the last three years crashed into her head at once. To this neighbourhood she was a dead girl. A ghost haunting their streets. If
|Don't write from your heart. Write from your ass, that's where the real shit comes from.|