Matchbox buildings surrounded the yard, a gray rainy container. Outside the entrance, an iron pole stood cold even in the spring when the jasmine tree bloomed its sweet perfume at me. Jasmine petals taught me tenderness while the pole left traces of rust on my palm. From her window the first-floor neighbor watched me twirl twirl twirl, make my rounds hand on pole, she watched my lips move, caught snatches of secrets, I whispered to myself in secret kid code. High on jasmine, drunk with wind, hand on pole, I didn’t count the endless circles of my childhood, didn’t bother to trace them into days.
Katia Raina emigrated from the former Soviet Union in 1993 at the age of 15. Her fiction and non-fiction appeared in Faces, Calliope, Skipping Stones and other publications for young readers. She is a former award-winning newspaper journalist and currently an intern with a literary agency, with plans to continue her career on the other side of the publishing desk as well.
- Short break update
- The Weighting Game (Part 2)