HOW DO STORIES START?
by Ross Sharp
A young woman sits in the smokers’ area outside the building. She hunches over her mobile phone, her knees drawn up almost to her chin, her body a tightly wound coil of defensiveness. As I pace the area, sucking smoke from a cigarette, I overhear her say …
” … nothing happened to you. You happened to them.”
I pace away. I pace back.
Then this …
” … because he feels unwanted. And unloved by everyone.”