The Orange

I’d taken an orange from the hostels’ breakfast buffet, my nails were too short to rupture the tough peel and get to the juicy, nutritious part, my stomach growled. A street dog accompanied me as I sat down on the floor of the bus station, one backpack to the left of me, another one to the right. I felt the stare of the locals, they were clearly wondering how one girl could carry so many things and why she was here in this remote Brazilian village all by herself. I started talking to the dog: “yes, I am hungry too, but dogs don’t like oranges”. The woman from the ticket office walked up to me, smiled and handed over a knife. I was grateful for the generous offer and my surprised look made her smile even more, finally.. breakfast. The sweet and sticky orange juice ran over my hands as a toucan appeared in the pale morning sun, he reminded me of all the incredible things I’d seen on my journey. I’m in paradise.

© Siel Wellens, 2014

© Siel Wellens, 2014

 
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