EBU (Senior group) Fine Work
"Behind the dots"
Amna Hrvat (27, female, Bosnia and Herzegovina)
Although feeling forced to write, at this late hour, when other darknesses are as dark as mine, I'm calling Muses believing that I'm worth to be given the help, if not as it was given to blind Homerus, then at least as it was given to many others whose words had never been celebrated as real art.
Dear reader, I want you to imagine two persons, young and happy, deeply in love. The rising Sun had been promising bright future to them and, looking at the sunrise, those two didn't notice a cloud that was pretending to shed all its rain on those who were not able to accept such a surprise. The rain, like a vail, covered their eyes the day when the flowers had been already received and when the baby had been already accepted as little, sweet, weak human being whose tears were dried up by the caring kisses that baby's parents used to drop to her shining face. The baby, they noticed, hadn't been smiling to their smiles, silent presence of their faces had meant nothing to her... the reality was unpleasant but had to be accepted in order to make little girl able to carry the darkness that was her destiny.
Leaving that painful image, the girl is becoming aware of her first memories. Her remembrance is recalling its first moments. There was the same girl, a bit older, wearing light dress of unknown color. There is a plush rose on the dress and there is happy girl touching the rose, proud of being the only one in the world that has such an amazing cloth. The uncle is getting the girl on his arms, kissing her and telling her that she's the most beautiful girl on the world. Being put down on the floor, the girl's hand had been taken by her mom's hand, she could hear the sound of the car and dad inviting them to go downstairs.
"School", the girl thought, "it must be interesting! Victoria said they drew houses and gardens and flowers there, Victoria said they read nice stories and dreadful boys always stand in the corner..."
While father was driving, mother was quiet. The girl interrupted the silence telling: "Dad, I'll learn how to draw nice flowers there as Victoria does, won't I? She said that teacher knows drawing, teacher is not like you both and she'll teach me, won't she, dad?"
There was no answer, just silent tears were falling on her hair.
"Why are you crying, mamma?" the girl asked, "Don't cry because you don't know drawing, that's not important mamma, teacher will teach me mamma..."
That time, Little girl didn't understand what was wrong in her words, she couldn't see the differences among those who were able to draw and those who were not; she used to play with neighbour's children in the street, to run and jump, sing and shout, laugh and cry. No one told her that drawings are going to be the only one reason that will separate her reality from their realities.
Later on, in the school, girl realized that she wasn't the only one who hadn't known how to draw the house, flowers and garden, there were many other children who hadn't known that but whose lives haven't been less worth because of that.
"Victoria," said the girl some time after, "does your teacher know Braille?"
"Braille? What's Braille?"
"You see", shouted the girl victoriously, "my teacher is better than yours! She taught us how to write and read Braille and you even don't know what's that! Never mind, I'll teach you... but... tell me, do you know how to recognize different flowers by touching them?"
"Nonsense!" she replied, "Why would I touch the flowers to recognize them while I'm able to see them?"
The discussion was over and, the girl, who hasn't been given the privilege to see the day light, wondered if there was really anything special in being able to differentiate flowers by touching them. However, deep inside, the girl was proud of having such capabilities and of knowing such an alphabet that was unknown even to Victoria's teacher. Behind the dots, there was her pride. Behind the dots she's been touching in order to read, there was strong will to show to everyone, how wonderful it could be to read by hands. No darkness could take her heros from her, no tumultuous night could prevent her knowledge to be gained from her books.
Years have been passing and the girl grew up.
It happened, that one day, just like her parents long time ago, she was enjoying sunrise in some far land, holding the hand of her beloved and listening to his voice. Being unable to see his dear face, she wanted absorbing every single word that he said. Separation was about to happen to them, and she knew, she'd never meet him again. Trembling hand put small slate and stylus to his hand saying:
"To remember me."
The tight Hansel told her much more than the words ever could.
The same day, two trains had departed, each one to its side of the world, separating them and leaving them lots of memories.
"It used to be nice but, not many people have been given to enjoy their happiness for a long time," she thought.
And then, when the memories became weaker, and when she was able to remember only every second moment that they'd spent together, she received the letter. She was surprised, "why to send the letter to someone who is not able to read it," she thought.
Even during opening the envelop, she knew it's not an ordinary letter. Even through the envelop, she could feel small dots, so well known to her.
"Now, my darling, now you know why I was so happy when I was given the gift," she read, "the moment you gave me these two things, I knew how to make you happy..."
She was reading again and again. Silent tears of happiness made her darkness bright. Well known dots were gathering all her memories to one point and she knew:
Behind the dots, there was pure love!