She smiles back—brightly, a smile I cannot stand, it reminds me too much of what I once was. I do not understand how the things I’ve shown her. How kind, how am I so different from her?
She takes my hand and and does the same to me. How thoughtful, how warm. I would have never done the same.
I am shown her memories, her hope, her life.
I never would have seen the world like this, mine is too dark, too haunted.
Her family, her dreams, her being.
A quaint farm I see, how magical, how envious—but that is not what I should think.
A life of simplicity in a world carved by war and tension. I can relate to the thought of waiting for the next harvest and hoping to survive the season. It seems I was wrong—hugely wrong.
She hopes of what she can change and how she should act upon it. I wish I could be like her—like Didi.
I never could understand people like them, the only thing that matters to me is that they are. That is enough.
One of the perks I have learned it that this bridges that gap between us—the language gap. Sharing everything means sharing your language.
I have learned her language and she has learned mine.
“My name is Kasia.“
She introduces herself in my language, holding out her hand for a handshake as I’ve seen in her memories.
“Kali, Kali Chavan.“
I reply in hers, accepting her handshake, copying her movement in my memory.
We are interrupted as Kasia’s guide barges in the room.
“It is nice to meet you Stanislaw.“
I greet him with a smile.
“What happened?“
His stupid face confused from me talking in his language.
“Nothing, just some understanding“
Kasia smugly replies and I smile.
This is nice.
