‘Today I remembered making wishes and having hope.
I found this rusty old coin in my pocket, from somebody I can’t recall, from a place I don’t know, with a purpose it hasn’t served. When I was a child and I would find them, I’d keep them until I saw the first well and I would make a wish.
But now money doesn’t make wishes come true, and there is no well. They dried up. Father told me the holy water font became mouldy. Marble cracked and prayers turned to dust on walls.
But I still have my hope. I know rain will come and I will melt in the soil I walked on and nature will bring nurture. And more shall live again.’ – Toskovat’
