Archive for the ‘Road Trip (to Perth)’ Category

Everything was over. Or, at least, everything had changed. I was “lucky” enough to find myself momentarily stationed in a gateway of sorts. Many of my comrades sold whatever they could and moved on as soon as possible. I felt a prompting within and kept what little I had, paramount of which was my utilitarian gray coat. Oh, that beautiful wool. Cold, damp desperation seeping into almost everything, my coat was my last remaining barrier. It contained my everything within. It contained me. … I kept my hands in the pockets and stretched my legs out as the train carried (time) forward (!) and, instead of thinking about the future, I remembered that girl on the beach from yesterday, yes, eating melon. … Russians and Ukrainians, I smiled to myself, eyes shut, we both love the luxury of eating fruit.

Panicking, tight chest and pains, she didn’t know what to do with herself. She lay in bed but found no rest.

I could offer no solace. I’d already extended love, affection and (as best I could muster) encouragement. I’d also massaged her back until my hands ached.

But there was no changing the facts of the matter and the matter of the facts. She wanted to join Anja for the road trip to Perth.

Perth? Hah! It’s somewhere in line with Irkutsk, but on another planet, in an American solar system. Australia is something like Brazil, I imagine, just fewer people, and somewhat more peaceful, with big distances and wide spaces. Perhaps, then it isn’t so different from Russia. … I look up at the stars and wonder.

How it began:

Hot day, she was eating melon.

They said she was Russian. But then I saw her toenails and I knew she was Ukrainian. I smiled.