Where the Blue Begins
Like A Blue Thread
… half of October in Pakistan, the other half hopping between Austria and Italy. If it weren’t for Paolo, she would be melting into nothingness.
He stopped showing up in her travels and doesn’t call as much anymore. Yet, if a stranger lingers by, she waits to hear her name in a whisper.
Though her inner world is at rest, may even be paralyzed, she keeps revolving, weighted by migrant moments that keep her from spinning out of control.
