A forgotten Journey

Don’t claim to know me, because I am your storyteller.

I have not spoken for the past eight years. it has been eight years of drowning. The Foreigners fed on our flesh , and non of us who survived the flood could remember the hate that led us here. It started beautifully and later turned into a terrifying dream. Salt water swept our fortune away, and our voices where lost. We were gone, yet no one bordered to ask about us or investigate into the past. We survived with the help of loneliness because we were wrongly informed about the promise land. A tale of a land made of gold was only meant for children, and we never knew that slavery awaits us to exploit our bones.

A journey to the promise land turns out to be a mystery