I realized everything feels like a blur. My perception of the world is a blur. When all you know is to work hard labor every day, perceiving time itself is a blur. But now it slows down. Why? It seems time moves so fast that it is time to leave this town. As ruined as it was, I imagine it …

I realized everything feels like a blur. My perception of the world is a blur. When all you know is to work hard labor every day, perceiving time itself is a blur. But now it slows down. Why? It seems time moves so fast that it is time to leave this town. As ruined as it was, I imagine it …

This rundown inn is more luxurious for me than I thought—quite a low bar, if you ever lived in a dump. Small, clean, with the exception of cracks and the dirty exterior covered in dust—probably from the dust blowing from the explosions in the battlefield. I still remember the dirt road from we traveled—full of holes and too much dust. …

I like Kasia. Is what I would say if she kept her mouth shut—permanently. I seem to be pulled into things I didn’t ask to be in. Usha would be laughing if she was here. She seems to be talking about farming. The usual: animal husbandry, fertilizer, the cycle. She seems to be knowledgeable—the only thing missing is a wooden …

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 …

Seeing this girl makes me irked. How she seems to remind me of someone. Her blind hope makes me displeased. I try not to show it, but it seems that it comes through. I smile—my eyes say so otherwise, probably. I should probably change my attitude pertaining to this, that guy might use it against us. Her face vexes me—such …

I meet a girl with the same circumstance as me—such a small world. She has hair that seems yellow, white as snow—different from the white of this country, more tan—sun-kissed. She is incredibly white, like her skin has never seen the sun, but her hands say otherwise—callused like mine. I met her in the lounge of this rundown inn—I can …

The town was worn down by war, with the faces of people tired from it—quite greasy, one I know well enough I can feel it—very different from the faces I’ve seen from those two messengers. This feeling is the same as the one I am used to at the tannery at home. This town feels like home—it mirrors it. The …

I let the dream pass—after all, what is a dream for but to wake up? That dream was nothing but a bubble—something that can be easily popped. After all, what I live in is worse. It was always worse. It was always worse—wasn’t it? I wonder if I’m even crying, looking out the window. I feel no tears. Maybe it …

I viewed this world as a constant struggle to keep living. I never understood it—living. But seeing people truly living—not just surviving—is infuriating. Watching people celebrating. Celebrating—how maddening. I walk outside the vehicle and see them—celebrating! Celebrating me? A chosen one traveling in their lands, warranting a celebration. This feeling wallowing inside me—disgust. This is not my country, not my …