Surely Until All Of Us Own And

There Aren't Enough Doctors In Africa. Those Who Choose To Become Doctors Here Don't Do It For The Money Or Because They Want To Do Good. They Do It Because They Have To Heal, The Way Most People Need To Breathe Or Eat Or Love.

You Can't Rewind War. It Spools On, And On, And On, Looping And Jumping, Distorted And Cracked With Age, And The Stories Contract Until Only The Nuggets Of Hatred Remain And No One Can Even Remember, Or Imagine, Why The War Was Organized In The First Place.

In Ways I Don't Entirely Have The Words For An Experience, Thought Or A Lesson Isn't Real For Me Until I've Written Down.

I Had The Constitution Of A Missionary.

I Always Knew Mum Loved Me - Tough, Look-after-yourself Love, As If She Knew She Wouldn't Always Be There.