Born in Kafachan, the only thing she knew how to do well was playing the harp. She took her music lessons seriously as a child.
Looking at the statue of the harp on the fence, she was fascinated. She drew close and ran her hands across the metal harp, she closed her eyes and she could remember home.
For weeks, in the big city all she had seen so far were the cars, gardens and tall buildings. None brought this longing to her heart. None made her miss home. Tears shimmered in her eyes. It was time, to go back home. It was time to stop being the rebel. The village would always remain in her heart.
© Deborah Glover, 2016
All rights reserved.
Photo credit: Sonya, 2008
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In response to Sonya three lines tales challenge week 7
Thanks Sonya for this beautiful photo.
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