Poland

Alici Maria Kuberska   I eat grass. It grows on land scorched by shells. I swallow sand. I am like all those who died in line for flour. Flour and sand, grass and wheat so alike, yet so different. I cry from hunger, despair, helplessness. No one hears me, no one sees. I live in

She was told she was beautiful like a girl from a renaissance portrait, limp as a reed and weak as an ivy. She believed that she needed to find her prince mighty and oak-like, to writhe among the branches, follow the sun and sparkle in its golden rays. The storm has come. It shattered the