She stands right in front, facing the teachers. Her white uniform is spotless and crisp. There is no mistaking her position - Headgirl, down to the perfect double knotted ribbon holding her hair. From her vantage point she watches the flag unfurl. A fist-full of rose petals float down, and on cue the national anthem soars out, filling the damp air. She can’t help but look up at the fluttering flag. A surge of pride shoots through her and she says to herself, I will make a difference. I will. Along the sidelines, her mother stands proud. Her baby girl is at the head of the crowd. She looks up at the fluttering flag and whispers to her friend, "we are saving up to send her to the US ."
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4 comments:
followed your comment back. you write beautifully. and the pics are lovely.
mm: thank you :)
chanced upon your blog. Lovely stuff. Do pardon me this thought. If by choice you are in Zagreb, this post is that much more ironic....: )
Me - juvenile writer. Please do drop by though. Comments from experienced hands would hopefully help me express that much better.
lol, true, at least for a few more years :)
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