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Writer's pictureLeon de Leeuw

Mihail took the train first thing after work. It had been enough with his boss, the menial tasks. The degrading questions. The bullying of coworkers. Time to go. And to never come back. But where to go? Is this just for a day or forever? Would the neighbours get concerned? Mihail couldn’t think straight and held his backpack tightly. He looked outside the train window as it was heading north, plowing through the snowy fields. He opened his backpack and found his work trousers in there. Angrily he walked through the train, kicked open the bathroom door and flushed the trousers down the toilet. They stayed stuck halfway and as if it wasn’t enough, Mihail tossed his work jacket in there as well. He’d never wear the thing with the stupid logo again. He slammed the bathroom door behind him as he returned to his seat. “Give me your ticket and get to the door, I’m kicking you out of this train, you rogue bastard!” yelled the conductor lady at him. “Do you flush objects down your own toilet as well? Can I clog up yours, you hunk of trash?” Mihail was frightened by the sudden outburst and stared right through the conductor. “What makes you think you can walk around here and mess up my train, you city bum?” Mihail walked towards the door as the train slowed down. He whispered a silent “sorry” as the conductor pushed open the doors and Mihail descended down the icy platform. He nearly slipped but eventually made it down. The conductor stared at Mihail, looking in disgust as the train pulled out of the village station. Vlado Trichkov village. Nothing to do as far as Mihail knew. He walked down the staircase leading into the village, he entered the first bar he saw. Probably the only one as well. “Rakija, double..” he mumbled as he threw his hat on the table. He paid his drink with the last few coins he had left from work the day before, sat down and suddenly felt better. He stared into the reflection of the window and nodded in satisfaction.

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Writer's pictureLeon de Leeuw

He who travels Will never be the same No matter if far oversees Or to the town across the river It’s step by step The traveler treads new ground Beats prejudice Makes personal victories For each trip is different And so the traveler is different He now knows What was unknown to him before A blank spot on his mental map Is now a colourful memory

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Writer's pictureLeon de Leeuw

The man whistles sad songs in the morning And when he’s had wine in the evening He sings them aloud Not always sad Sometimes about love Although that too can be sad There is no one to listen But the pictures of old friends on the chimney He wipes away a tear And thinks to himself Perhaps they are listening Singing along someplace else

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