what thousand words, I’m thinking now. Should I return to the story I was writing? or should I make it a non-fiction awareness-inducing project? even as I write this I know the answer: the story must be continued. Having decided that, I suddenly don’t feel like writing it right now. Sarah is in a ditch, she has fallen into it. Her right arm is broken, twisted at an awkward angle beneath her. She is in….Syria. Yes, let her be in Syria. Wait. Above her, she hears the rumble of UN planes rushing to bring aid to the country: food and water and medicine. I think she should be called something else since I’ve used that name before, I knew Syrian once called Lulu, but it is too…childish. I can’t decide, and I want to carry on, so lets see how lulu lasts then. Lulu’s stands on shaky feet, unsure about her existence in this story yet. She brushes the dust of war from her and begins to walk, as before, towards the story. This time, she has no child and she runs from no dead family. She is free without the lingering gravity of a past, because she has no memory. She has a habit however, and that is laughter. Even now, newly awoken and unsure what she is doing, she has a strong urge to laugh. Yet, the dryness of the moment, the seriousness is conveyed to her with the subtle background music that she hears, a grave song of something like Rezső Seress’ Gloomy Sunday, and yet she skips above it, kicking stones and clicking her tongue to up the beat and make it jazz, dancing in the sand she waltzes her way to the Lebanese border. This is not a thousand words and already it feels too difficult to write, but stop it, let me not say that. It is easy to write, I just need something to say, or, I need to exist in the exact moment of where I am writing from, and right now, I am writing from lulu’s waltz to lebanon. She reaches the border and faces the soldiers, They eye her warily assuming that the smile on her face is because she has in fact lost her mind to the war. They had no minds left for her and they worried that if they were to let her through she would take a mind from someone else. Sarah saw these thoughts and more in the soldiers -sorry, I meant Lulu- and she so she targeted a lone soldier eating one of those camping-friendly mac-and-cheese packs that taste like nothing or something plastic but are alright when heated on a paraffin cooker. While he was almost enjoying the first bites of this mac and cheese she stole his mind. He didn’t notice, and the only immediate consequence he felt was that he began enjoying the mac and cheese more. With mind in place she refaced the soldiers, who noticed her increased focus and intellect at once and let her in without question. Still not a thousand words yet, so let Lulu be in lebanon, unscathed by the war and still giggling for no apparent reason. She danced her way to the (insert lebanon landmark here) and stood there for aesthetic reasons, wanting to bring setting into this story and make it more enjoyable to the many or no readers that might or might not read this.