How does it feel to be in a place where you need to be accepted but where even the simplest situations seem to be complicated.....

Even before I can open my eyes I am aware of the darkness.

I awake to a darkness that is so total that I am immersed in it. There are no shadows; I can not even begin to imagine where the corners of the room are. It is the blackness of an unfamiliar room with the shutters closed. I am unable to move from the bed in case I bump into the pieces of furniture that lurk in the depths of this unknown room.

Unable to move about the room I left am listening to the sound of the passing traffic. I try to remember which wall of the room is the one that has the door in it. If I can find it and open it a fraction, enough light might penetrate the room for me to find my way.

I can remember that the doorway is not on the wall behind me, this wall has only the religious items that decorate its surface. Their presence disturbed me when I was shown the room earlier. I had thought that if could I might move them and put them back in place before breakfast time. Tiredness and fear of damaging something had ruled that idea out. So I had fallen into a deep sleep, sunken into the feather mattress as if I had been dropped onto it from a great height.

I am too awake now to fall back to sleep so I swing my legs out of the bed and my feet make contact with the marble floor. Maybe if I hold onto the side of the mattress and edge my way to the foot of the bed I can decipher the outline of the door or the window shutters. I consider it worth a try, so long as I am quiet enough in my attempt. I have no wish to wake anyone.

The house is not silent but its night sounds are disguised by the constant muffled noise of the traffic passing by. This at times seems to be on all sides of me. I know its sound is like an echo and that it is amplified by the lack of other street noise at night. I wish I were at home in England and then I could wrap myself in my dressing gown and pad quietly down stairs to make myself a cup of tea. I might even read a chapter of the new book I bought recently and then when the feeling of sleepiness found me again I would return to my room and sleep until day time.

I can hear the clock ticking but I have no way of knowing what the time is. Loneliness, my constant companion since arriving in this country manifests itself as an ache beneath my ribs. I stub my foot on the leg of the bed and bite my lip to hold back the shriek that I would normally let out in such circumstances. In my head I am cursing, words I would not willingly acknowledge that I know. I sit on the floor, and cradle my foot and bruised toes. A lesser woman would give up and go home  or a stronger one for the thought of the journey home alone scares me.