Geo-Writing het hierdie jaar (2014) deel uitgemaak van die Brighton Digital Festival. Skrywers kry ’n tema volgens hulle GPS-koördinate en moet daarvolgens ’n verhaal van minder as 300 woorde ty skryf. My tema (vir Johannesburg) was “’n foto van ’n rooi ballon op Facebook”. Die ander verhale kan hier gelees word. Hier is die oorspronklike, Engelse verhaal.
Red Balloon
My parents told me that I was a soul they found floating above a stretch of grass next to the highway on their way to Johannesburg. My mom said I looked like a red balloon, and that she caught me before I could snag on a wiry tree or float down into the prickly winter-brown grass.
I never quite understood how I went from a balloon-shaped soul to human, but I knew I was different. In time the balloon became a silly bedtime story to grow out of. I acted like balloons didn't scare me. I carried balloons around because other children did. Balloons would slip from their fingers and disappear into the sky, but I could never let one go.
When I turned thirteen my parents told me that I was given up by my biological parents. Parents who, like so many others, had left the country. As if leaving me wasn't enough. As if I wasn't enough reason to stay.
It took a lot of time to find her name. On Facebook was a story of her new coffee table book set in Brighton - a far-away world of strangers. Snapshots of her, a red balloon and two toddlers. A photo of a lone red balloon above Brighton.
I choked as my soul spilled onto the floor with my tears. Mom caught me and snapped the laptop shut.
If only I were a balloon. Then I could float away. Then I could disappear.
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