Size Seven Shoes

She turned to go but tripped on a pebble she hobbled her way past buses and trains but no one saw where she went or when she came There was no seat in the occupied carriages amidst the whistle blows and the chugging engines a reverie enveloped her amidst a strange silence In the falling shadows surfaced tales of old memories and familiar figures laughter and song kisses and warm embraces The sun has disappeared behind clouds as the train pulls away so do her thoughts her determination willing her to keep moving Must she stay Should she leave Ticket in hand She wrestles with dilemmas bigger than the station she stands in larger than the life she has to give She walks retracing her tracks into a door into a space only she knows and there she replaces the hopes of better things elsewhere with a newfound love for her makeshift home

"Write about a food that gives you a specific emotional response."  - From The One Minute Writer *     *     * Food doesn't really elicit much of a response from me. That's because I don't really live to eat. I guess the only time I have a huge reaction whilst eating a particular food is when it really tastes bad. Smells are important, though. If something smells really tantalising, the chances are I am more likely to think it tastes great and derive great satisfaction from eating it. Even when maybe, it might not be that fantastic after all.

Sharifah sunk into a corner at the end of the dingy toilet. The stench was overwhelming, but she did not care. Having to enter into more than 20 different toilets in a day - and for reasons other than to relieve yourself - made you immune to the worst of smells. In fact, if she concentrated hard enough, sometimes it felt as though she couldn't really smell anything foul at all. The horrid sights that she had to endure were far worse. The bloody trails left by some primitively raised girl who had no sense to clean up after her own mess when experiencing that inconvenient time of the month. The toiletbowl that got clogged because somebody just didn't get it that if a dozen wads of tissue were already embedded in there, it probably meant the flushing mechanism was out of order. It was hard to be imaginative in an environment as demoralising as these public toilets. The best she could do to console herself was to think about how clean and lovely and sweet smelling it would be w...