She lumbers across the kitchen towards the derelict wooden table. Having put down a cup of freshly made coffee she takes the last cigarette out of a mutilated pack, lights it and then gives a long puff. The chair creeks as she reclines to prop her head with a strong, chubby hand. The housewife is up to make some breakfast for the hungry family. At ten minutes to seven she manipulates chunks of bread and …showed first 75 words of 244 total…

…showed last 75 words of 244 total…they gobble the food the winter sun shines mildly behind them as a splendid backdrop to a graceless scene. Seven fifteen, and they all go their separate ways leaving her free to watch her favourite soap opera. I have no doubts than most of us who live in New Belgrade have recognized bits of their homes, or their hearts in this scene. After all, it is our personalities that reflect the air of our homes.