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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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