Kasia’s bus. Immigration stories.

London bridge

 

Kasia and her young daughter Ada are both are on a bus waiting to get digested by central London’s traffic.

Kasia is looking around. Her expression is clear. She is asking herself how will she be able to give to her daughter, Ada, the same few opportunities which life offered her as left-overs.

Kasia doesn’t have an answer to this question, just some few more doubts.

Did it made sense for her to insist on staying in this town which seem to have sucked her life away? And what to say about Ada’s father who, as a good-bye gift, left her the weight of a responsibility he was not willing to take?

Kasia is tired. Luckily her stop arrived, distracting her from the tedious attempt to answer all of those questions.

In the blink of an eye, Kasia is again in the streets, finally out of that two-levelled red shell which every day scamper her around like an insane roller coaster. Ada is always there, holding her hand with a look in her eyes a bit hopeful and a bit confused.

Now Kasia is left with just a short walk to reach home, feed the little one and then put her to bed. Then everything will be easier again. All of those questions that now are echoing in her head will soon be sucked back again from sleep together with her consciousness. She knows that.

Once again for Kasia sleep will arrive. That same comforting dream-free sleep that in the last few years seemed to have been the only promise that her destiny seemed to be able to maintain.

Kasia needed that sleep. It was the only hope for her to get enough energy to survive another day on that soul draining town. If not for herself, at least for little Ada.

 

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