A survivor's story
The boy sitting at the back of the bus was maybe ten or twelve years old. Dark haired and dark eyed, he leaned against the foggy window, hunkered down in the last seat to the right. His hoodie covered most of his face and music filtered from his mobile serenading those of us who also …
In the beginning, I was confused. I had been in Gothenburg for only a few months but something seemed amiss. Something other than just attempting to accumulate to a new country. My fiancé seemed to have another very different personality from the one he had shown me over the course of our relationship. For all …