Family

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By Virginia Miranda

She lay with her eyes closed, her mind alert. Cocooned in a world of blurry vision and limited hearing, she let her thoughts wander across the abyss of ninety-two years.

Her life … a microcosm in a macrocosm of billions. Like old newsreels, faces and voices flashed by.

‘Mama, open your eyes!’ The voice close.

‘Dianne?’

Another voice … a soft kiss … she recalled a dark-haired boy climbing the barbed wire fence.

‘Stephen?’

The voices became muffled but she felt their presence.

Content in the solitary confinement of her dark world she waited; knowing there was no prospect of a favourable release.

         
“For me writing is about the words, how they come together, what the story says.” – the writer

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