Imagine a little town on a little island. Surrounded by white sand and sea shells, rocks and little caves, and endless ocean. This is our reality. In the centre is our town – Blink. Almost everyone in our town has own family business selling something of use to others. Everyone except children and her.
She is strange. A little girl with hair almost as white as sand and eyes as dark as the night. Nobody knew where she came from. Strange, huh? On Blink we know everyone’s life, except her’s.
She would pass the shop street every morning at the same time. She walks barefoot carrying a small basket of different seashells with her tiny hands.A lonely child without anyone in this world, and yet everyone tried to keep away from her. She seemed different, dangerous, an outsider. Like a part of a different world. Although that would be impossible because there is nothing besides this little island.
Everyone thinks she attempts to sell those shells trying to fool everyone around and pretend that those are worth the money. People would swear and throw pebbles at her while she walks down the street. You can see the drops of blood from her tiny feet as she ignores everyone around.
I know I am supposed to dislike. But she is so young. We protect our children, but assault this innocent child everyday. One day something clicked with me. She looked much worse, beaten up, exhausted and her feet were completely covered in blood. I grabbed some of my daughter shoes and clothes, medical kit, and food and followed her by the blood marks on the ground. As I was walking first time in my life I had a time on my own to think about…things. I stopped when I felt the breeze of the ocean. My life has been so repetitive. I realized I do not remember anything about my past. Just as I do not know anything about this girl.
An eagle flew right above my head and woke me up from my thoughts. I noticed the girl sitting by the waves and came closer to her quietly saying “Hi.” She looked up at me. The only feature on her face that was noticeable was her eyes. The rest all blended in with the white sand.
She blinked few times and seemed very scared she started moving away. I showed her the clothes and shoes.
“I will never be like all of you and will never wear your clothes. Go away.”
I thought to myself that she is indeed very weird and rude. Turned around and started walking back when I heard deep voice again.
“You all assumed that I am selling those shells but nobody asked me why I am carrying them. Judged me on how I look. Assumed that I am weird, but never talked to me.
“You all know nothing, but pretend that you know all. Nobody wants to know how they got here. We are all trapped here and all you care about is what people wear on their feet.”
I was breathing heavily. She was scary. Her words were scary.
She sighed and continued with collapsed voice, “I gather shells to build a bridge out of this place. I feel like every day a piece of me is disappearing. I need to get out.”
That sounded like a speech of a person who is crazy. I left everything near her and went back home.
Imagine a picture of a little town on a little island. Detailed painting of life on that town. The girl by the shore seemed too off the style and The Creator erased her from the canvas. First the colour, and then figure. Instead, he drew a pile of sea shells. He took a sip of coffee, put on his favourite jacket and left his place to get his lunch.