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A Handful of Raisins in an Otherwise Empty Room
A Journey from Tragedy to Joy



I was dropped into a dark hole.  Nothing around me but strangers. Nothing familiar.  I was only a spectre when I was noticed, and I was noticed rarely.  I always heard my heartbeat in my ears and I studied every moment, keenly aware that although food, clothing and a warm bed were provided, my survival was not ensured.  I was five and I was on my own.  Every night at bedtime, I was given a handful of raisins.  I had a moment of intimacy with my own soul.  I could control how slowly I ate those raisins, savoring not just their sweetness, but the sweetness of a few moments when I was alright.

I loved in a situation where love simply could not survive.  I descended into a life which could only deteriorate.  I was suffering and barely surviving.  I did not want to miss the handful of raisins that somehow I knew existed outside the small, sick circle I was living in.  There was another life.  I had to find it. I had to change.  I had to find joy.  I had to create my own handful of raisins.

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