My sweetheart is on the way to the the embassy to get his visa. His flight to Sweden leaves tuesday, but before that there are so many things that has to happen. He has to get to the Swedish embassy. Safe. He has to leave the Swedish embassy. Safe. He has to get to the airport. Safe. All these things that were safe just a month ago. One could get robbed, yes, but one was not targeted to be killed or assaulted for one's nationality, in broad daylight. This week has been a nervous waiting for today; the critical movement. We haven't talked, of fear of someone hearing his voice. He has been to an immigrant camp that prooved to have lacking security so the last few days he has been staying at a friend's house that is risking a lot for hiding him. Now, soon, freedom, God willing. And here I am at home, preparing for his arrival, read: cleaning up my shit. So it better happen. There is no alternative, cause I already did the groceries.
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