Ulitza Rosa Luxemburg
by
Simon Watts

I didn’t know the blood was hers. To me it was just the start of another one of many interesting
days in the Ukraine. I came out of my building and was heading to the shop before
catching the bus to work. And there it was, smack dab in the middle of the footpath. Right
in the centre of the archway leading to the street. A puddle of blood. A big, concern inducing
puddle of blood. Thick, coagulated and impressive. Not just in size but in it's pattern. It
was at least 2 feet in diameter and for some strange reason it had trails of drips leading
away from it in both directions. One towards the shop and one towards the corner. I followed
the ones to the shop as I needed to get my lunch for work. This might seem a little
cold but I’d been living in the street for a few months now and not much surprised me
anymore. As far as I was concerned, a little blood trail to follow made the journey more interesting.
I stocked up on lunch and headed out, retracing the trail of blood to the original puddle and
gave it another once over. Anywhere else in the world that blood would have been long
gone. Cleaned and scrubbed out of existence by some nosy neighbor afraid her building
would get a bad name. But here it was as fresh as a newly baked cookie.
You could actually see things in it. Little mementos of a person missing a pint or two.I left it
their to solidify and walked off in the opposite direction following the other blood trail
around the corner where I found a bit of old bandage mingled in yet more blood. Another
clue I thought. Some crazy person isn't too concerned about all the blood they're losing as
they're starting to shed their tourniquets. I crossed the street to wait outside my friends
building and that’s when I noticed the women. One lying in the gutter and 2 standing in the
street talking on their mobile phones. I figured something was odd because the two
women talking on their phones had actually stopped and were looking down at the prone
figure. They were standing over the girl in the gutter in a very protective way. Making a
human shield between her and the passing traffic. Normally when you see someone
passed out on the street over here nobody gives a toss because they’re probably just
drunk. It's completely normal. Even if they've landed with their head 2 inches from the
wheels of speeding traffic on a main road. Nobody bats an eyelid. It's normal. They're just
left there and if something bad happens well that's just one less person to share the Vodka
with.
So I knew the girl was dead.
She looked so serene, so relaxed, almost happy that life had come to an end.
People passed by without a care. The cops eventually arrived and cared even less.
I went to work.
Life goes on.
And off.
As they say: "Is Ukraine".