I was born on the 11th of May, 1987. My mother took one look at me and said, "She's ugly, but she is my daughter." The war bunker in which I sprang to life was riddled with disease and I had to be taken to my cousins in downtown Macedonalia, the capital of Macedonia. My mother and I were led by Reliminatzitachia Flyocska, my mother's life-long friend. We travelled through the sewers in the dead of night to escape capture and arrived three days later, having survived the journey by feasting on rats that scurried to and fro in the dim light of the sewers.
And so I began my life. My mother told me this story when I was a little girl, sewing in front of the hearth as we ate our traditional Macedonian food of rice and potatoe followed by toast and peanut butter.
When I was 5 years old we escaped war-torn Macedonia on a raft my mother put together with some old planks and the hair on our heads which we had been growing to serve this very purpose.
I arrived in Australia, plucking the barnacles from the backs of my legs while my mother said a prayer of thanks, kissing the sand of the beach on which we stood. By day, a music student. By night, a flamenco dancer. What more can I say?