You start without knowledge,
Running, running, running. People fly past me in a blur. My black curls cascading out behind me. There's almost an excitement that entices you to feel as though you are a child running from the monsters in your nightmares. Although for me now, those monsters are very real. The only difference is that it's in the shape of a Dictator. I can see the blurred outlines of Swatikas on the uniforms of Aryan children. However, I am not considered an Aryan, despite what it may say on my papers. Does loving an Aryan count for anything? And he loves me? I can't focus on what is soon to be behind me.
A strong laugh and a cursed smile,