The Night Before You Stole From Me

If you think something strongly enough of someone, of a place, they will prove you right. And the night before you stole from me, I said I didn’t want to spend time in your city. That I didn’t want to trust people around where you live. Because I believed something bad would happen. I believed the rumours. And you proved me right.

The night before, did you know you would steal from a stranger? Did you know you would disrespect someone in that way or did I just make it too easy for you? Perhaps you thought I deserved it because I “must be rich” ? I wander if you consciously chose to steal from a tourist… I wander many things. Many useless things. With no answer. Just emptiness.

Ironically, the night before I asked myself “what if something happens to this?” I was referring to the physical space where years of travel photos and writing notes were saved. I shouldn’t have asked… I didn’t want to know. Now I lost precious visual memories and the ability to take many more photos before the end of my trip. So I hope you sell these things and buy your family food. Then it will be worth it. But tell me, why didn’t you steal food? The thought of uncontrollable greed sickens me. My own anger for this sickens me.

I would like you to know that I’ve never stolen from anyone. Apart, maybe, candy from my little sister when we were young. (Sorry Val) And I would like you to know, I am not rich, at all. In fact I could barely afford the cost of life in your country. And that is why I was leaving. Maybe you think, “but at least I could leave”… It’s true. It doesn’t matter though, does it? It shouldn’t. I have just one request then. It’s for you to please wipe what you stole, to please not peek into my personal life… You’ve done enough.

 

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