Mitrovica Kosovo

One bedroom Mitrovica.

Three paces east a door was attached that opens and closes. Brass metal handles of this door might tarnish ones hand leaving a stench of a rather ravishing oxide that could be seen as ones private business should he have forgotten to wash his hands after relieving himself upon a ceramic throne that flushes with little water to spare. For every drop must be sparingly accounted for thanks to those who like to control even the bile that needs to be excreted amongst all the Serbians who live across the bridge that separates them from those of uneducated origin and decent.

Frustration decorated the room with candles that weren’t for praying but used as tools necessary for light when blackouts occurred during the malicious cold winter nights.

Even the Saints so neatly hung on the wall looked exhausted in their golden glory watching their son trying to sleep on his futon sofa bed pushed up against one side of the room to create an illusion of space, a lost soul lay there in silence cursing every living being responsible for the utter darkness he was forced to witness encouraging his illusions of amnesia for he felt that he was in a dreaming state as his body and mind ached from his Insomnia so visibly etched around the circumference of his dilating pupils.

Camouflaged in the dark amongst all the clutter that could be seen as a Gypsies paradise a plastic cage with a metal door was home to a German Shepard who embraced her claustrophobia as normality.
Tiffany adored her master who lay sleepless in the dark; she let out a groaning howl as if to say I wish I could help you.

Prescribed sleeping medication lie dormant inside the walls of his interior letting the insomnia rule every molecule of his genetic make up.

Thinking of what to do to take his mind off his current reality, taking his notebook that was falling to pieces he switched it on as it had enough battery power to last until the electricity returned, he didn’t have Internet connection but learning to connect to his neighbors wireless was as common as a fart in the wind.

Destination Facebook scrolling through all the smiling faces and what seemed to be a happy bunch of people living their lives in the sun and basking in gods good glory did nothing but irritate Sasha’s soul as he too yearned for the chance to be happy and free from his gilded cage for he was not too fond of living in his Bangladesh of Serbia or so he liked to call it.

The time was now 3am in the morning and still there was no electricity, lying there with no interaction available Sasha’s eyes fixated upon the candle sticks that were drowning in hot wax the flickering flames danced with any shadow of movement on the ceiling creating an unnecessary ambience of hell.

Blaire Blaqua.

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