This piece was written in response to Fragment

Hope.

I didn't look back. I couldn't. No! No! I'm lying to you again. I didn't wanna look back. Nothing was stopping me except my fear. Fear of what though? That's what I kept asking myself again and again as I ran.. faster and faster. Was I afraid that I'd get sucked back in again? Was I afraid that some part of me would dissaude me from going away. I had to run. I needed to run. It was the best route to take.

As I sat on the cool bus with people around me tucking themselves in for the long road ahead, I was uneasy.. sweaty. I couldn't wait to cross over into Quebec, then New Brunswick, then Nova Scotia and finally the ferry to the rock, Newfoundland. My new home. Why did they call it that? Newfoundland? was there a symbolic meaning to the name too?

I hoped to find a new life there.. somewhere far away from 'home'... somewhere where I could live .. my life.. my way.. with my own dreams and hopes. I can only hope... faster and faster the bus travels on this pot-holed highway. Another sysmbol maybe of the trials of this path...

I can only hope.. Hope is a good thing and no good thing ever dies.