Today I have been thinking about…voting.
Last week we all got dragged out to vote.
Again.
There are two halves to my village, but tensions between the communities are rare: those who have lived here for a long time, and those who moved here recently, get along mostly fine.
The sun shone all day. People crossed the bridge over the Tyne-river, safely, to cast their votes.
Our polling station is an ex-Temperance Hall, a piece of our narrow-minded history, now used for toddlers, lunch club. The kids came with me: I know they are safe here, their Eastern European heritage doesn’t matter, isn’t noticed.
They wanted to remain in the polling station – to see how other people voted – but we had to leave. ‘We need to go now. People want space, and peace to vote,’ I said. ‘Let’s go.’
Reblogged this on Crooked Cats' Cradle and commented:
Tinylife does politics. I may never attempt this again…
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They need peace to vote
– and we need peace from vote. They sound so similar, and yet.
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Thanks for posting, I am thankful for the opportunity to read the thoughts of folks who voted, not jsut want I read in the media.
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