15 Jul 2008 at 08:30
The thin girl died last Tuesday. I didn't even know her name. I'll never forget her face, or the haunting stare she looked at me with.
Sat in the garden on Thursday morning with a man called Anthony for a couple of hours, soaking up the sun, just chatting to him about his upcoming birthday on Monday, his 8 year old son, how he was going to get married as soon as he leaves this place.
He died that night.
I don't even know how to describe how it felt to walk into his room in the morning, to see the empty bed with the name rubbed off the chalk board, his bed perfectly made with the drawings still stuck up on the wall. His death affected me more than anything so far, his birthday was in 10 days ffs, we were going to buy a cake and celebrate with him, and although weak, I was having a wonderful conversation with him 12 hours earlier! The only thing that made me feel better was when Bart pointed out that he was happy that day. I will never forget him basking in the sun with...
Read more: Dream Centre - Week Two