Ilona Sābera – portfolio

blogging, journalism, semiotics, short stories

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To grow up in a place never being there

IMG_0138“Let Christine’s sister to get on first,” tells a girl to her friend, taking the city bus in evening. The word sister comes to my ears, they are talking about me and I have gained a Ukrainian family. I am carrying a heavy bag, full of the best autumn village gifts – apples, natural fresh cow milk, cottage cheese and typical potato varenyky. I have a silent hope to be similar to a group of Ukrainian girls, who made with me this journey of three hours in a crowded train from Carpathian mountain villages to Lviv. On Sunday evening train there are men drinking beer and probably not only that, old ladies offering snacks and students trying to read in the sound of mobile phone tunes. Continue reading