My support system has been built from people of all five continents, and one cat. Later I met that one lady friend who would support me today in 99 per cent of things (and who often stops me being a clown) I became her wedding witness. When I moved to Paris, there was a woman who let me stay with her for free and helped me find a good place of my own. An Italian lady friend of mine got me hooked on illustration - making my reality totally different today. My first big no parents allowed vacations were with four girls. Words from my mother, grandmothers and aunts gave a lot of structure to the woman I ve become. Above all - I am lucky to be surrounded by women who know how to make simple, everyday life worth celebrating. I am also lucky enough to always be surrounded by amazing women - women who do not take no for an answer, women who fight their fights, who stay proud in front of danger, who believe in education and emancipation, women who support and who are worthy of being supported, and women who are ladies in every situation. I am always more than happy to participate in the it will be OKs of my friends and family, and I am lucky enough to have friends and family who want to participate in mine. This OK can come in many shapes and forms. I just knew I had to respond with something - to tell her that everything will be OK. As they were walking away I heard them explaining to each other what I said, and then from the dark background of my walk home I heard one loud and one husky, Merci. I said it again in French, and they nodded again. She looked at me while wiping her tears, her non-crying friend looked at me and they gave me a nod and a timid smile. I had decided to stick to safe ground and English for my little borrowed wisdom. I was not sure if the girl understood me. I told her a simple truth, some simple well-known facts, somethingĮasily applicable to whatever situation she was fighting in the midst of the night and in drunken half-reality. I told her what I got in similar situations from my girlfriends, my very personal tribe. I also added that, He probably wasn t worth that MAC mascara that is running down your cheeks. I told her that, Everything will be just fine when you clear your head up - things look much sillier now than they will look in the morning. Out of nowhere I became a part of their tribe, and I felt like I needed to say something - like I needed to give my fair share of soothing words to the crying girl in front of me, and not just a handkerchief. I was a witness and an accomplice to this small emotional whirlpool. I am surprised that I am being stopped - it s too late and too dark, people don t communicate often with strangers at this hour - but I am taking out my Kleenex packet with a drawing of a cartoon Frozen on it, I am giving it to the crying girl and I smile.īig cities like Paris don t put you in these situations - you are usually left to laugh your own laugh or fight your own misery, but here. The non-crying one stops me and asks me if I have a Kleenex. One is crying her friend is hugging her and telling her soothing words. I know the street, I feel safe, home is near. I am walking slowly down the old dark street. ![]() It s somewhere after midnight and the night is warm - probably the first warm night of the season. I said loudly, Merci she waved affirmatively, without turning her head. A heart for me? She nodded and made a hand-heart sign once again. I jumped out and I started walking towards the exit.Ī girl tapped me on my shoulder. The Métro stopped at the station close to my house. ![]() I was reading something and wiping them off. I say my eyes, because actually I was perfectly OK, except my eyes - they were irritated and tears were running down my face for three or four stations. September Publishing I was sitting on the Paris Métro, going home from work. Printed in and bound by L C Printing Group No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright holderĬover and page design by Sonja Bajic and Martin Brown ![]() The right of Sonja Bajic to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright Designs and Patents Act 1988.Īll rights reserved. Text and illustration copyright © Sonja Bajic 2018 First published in 2018 by September Publishing
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