I saw a suitcase today, one of those little hand luggage type things.
It was white, with black writing and red hearts all over it – I ❤ Ny, I ❤ to travel…..
It was sitting in the middle of the path with its pull along handle pointing to the sky.
I live in a village. On the south coast. And I think i’m lucky; I’m surrounded by farms and villages, a short car ride takes me into town and an hour on the train and I’m in London.
And I love it here. But today I saw a suitcase.
It had no owner. And I wondered.
I was on my way to Sainsburys of all places, the road was quiet, the village was quiet, and the unattended suitcase was grossly out of place.
In that moment I wondered if it was a bomb. For a split second I wondered if terrorism had come to my little village — my little haven.
And I was afraid.
Fear. I was afraid because the media told me I should be.
And I hate that.