She’s not the only one. Girls like her everywhere, smiling up from underneath the water. It only looks like smiling. We weight ourselves down with rocks, with dares that one of us will reach her. She’s still got her hair. It swarms round her head like a grist of bees. We have never met anyone …
Marja stood in the middle of the city square, a tiny speck amongst the hustle and bustle of the vast city. It was early winter, the Christmas season, and snow blanketed the ground up to her calves, but the bitter winds didn’t touch her. She looked around, frantically calling her daughter’s name. “Ansa! Ansa!” she …
Burnt Pine 