Skies of blue and fields of gold
anonymous
October 25 2010, 20:19:44 UTC
I'm not sure whether this follows the request entirely. Fail fill is fail, orz.
It is hard work, tending to these fields day after day. Her back aches not only from the weight of her breasts, but from the heavy basket of wheat she carries too. It overflows with the yellow crop, and she likes to think that should she hold it to the sky, it would resemble her flag.
From where she works in the fields, she thinks she can see the ferris wheel at Chernobyl. She remembers taking Russia and Belarus to the amusement park on opening day. That was the first time Russia told her that he was proud of his big sister. She shifts the basket to one arm and brushes her short hair away from her face - short not by choice, but from the effects of radiation.
She knows that it is never a good thing to become lost in her memories. After all, reminiscing doesn't pick the wheat. A field hand nearby waves to her, and she smiles back. Satisfied with today's harvest, she begins her long walk back to the farmhouse, chatting with the field hand along the way. No, this is no time to think of the past. Ukraine is happy to live in the present, under skies of blue and in these fields of gold.
It is hard work, tending to these fields day after day. Her back aches not only from the weight of her breasts, but from the heavy basket of wheat she carries too. It overflows with the yellow crop, and she likes to think that should she hold it to the sky, it would resemble her flag.
From where she works in the fields, she thinks she can see the ferris wheel at Chernobyl. She remembers taking Russia and Belarus to the amusement park on opening day. That was the first time Russia told her that he was proud of his big sister. She shifts the basket to one arm and brushes her short hair away from her face - short not by choice, but from the effects of radiation.
She knows that it is never a good thing to become lost in her memories. After all, reminiscing doesn't pick the wheat. A field hand nearby waves to her, and she smiles back. Satisfied with today's harvest, she begins her long walk back to the farmhouse, chatting with the field hand along the way. No, this is no time to think of the past. Ukraine is happy to live in the present, under skies of blue and in these fields of gold.
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It makes me want to cuddle Ukraine a lot.
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