Visual Language
There is a red dot made from cheese peel wax on a framed map. She cries whenever she talks about it. I feel sorry for her but her tears also make me uncomfortable. She talks about how they had to leave, how they had just planted potatoes. Her new bike was left behind as well. She tries to make me wear the traditional dress she had sewn for herself. It is white with red embroidery all over, on the collar, cuffs and along the hem. It looks old and folksy and anything but cool. I’m very happy that it is too small for me to squeeze into.
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