The public holiday of May 1st. in Victoria, Gozo. The Feast Day of Saint Joseph the worker. The time is 11.03am. Giorga is on her way back home after attendind the 10.00am Mass service which finished just a few minutes ago.
Releiving some of her weight from her aching right leg onto her walking stick, she carefully navigated round any irregularity in the paving which might cause her to fall and injure herself.
She lets out a long sigh as she remembers the long years of suffering and agony her own mother had been through, after slipping and falling down a flight of stairs and badly fracturing her hip and pelvis, some sixty years ago. The forfeiting of her marriage to Emanuel, to enable herself to dedicate more time to her WWII widowed mother, still bore a scar in her heart. She often thought about him and wondered what’s become of him, since he emigrated to Australia. No one ever heard of him again.
The small fortune her mother left her when she passed away thirty years ago, was enough to see her through the remaining years of her life. When her time was over, her distant cousins can do whatever they wanted with what’s left. She often thought of asking one of her distant neices to come and live with her as a helper and companion in exchange for making her her sole heir. Surely the eight-roomed house she lived in and the antique bits and pieces she had inside would be worth a few pennies, but then again she thought of the sacrifices she herself had made and dismissed the idea altogether.
“Ah nearly there” she thought. “A few more paces and I’m back to my solitude, however I must thank God for every day He lends me. Next month’s my eightieth birthday and I really must be thankful for living this long”. With this thought in mind she inserted her door-key inside the lock and gave it a turn.
5 Copies of a single hand-held shot taken with Olympus E-volt E 330 DSLR, processed at 1/3 EV stops and merged together with the original in Photomatix Pro3