18, 16:41 protecting my vulnerable twins by claiming roller coaster tracks

Primitive protection of your babies in war.
 
I am in a city
hunted by war
the blasts are imminent

where do I run? Where is safe? I am told by people in segregated panic to take cover in reception areas of old houses. I was so sure under the stairs or barricaded safety would be my saviour. I was wrong.
I tie my twin babies in my jogger bottoms: under a Tshirt, I secure them by pulling the draw string
tight.

Primitively my priority is to ensure their survival and keep them safe. 

I am under the Eiffel Tower which is surrounded by Georgian houses.

The flames and bombs are constant. Trying to second guess their next move in order to protect.

I am then climbing a roller coaster track, with my twins slipping away, I am struggling to keep them harnessed, barely secured! I am climbing up whilst a hovering war plane shoots down. 

I look down to see a half blown up body of a woman in recovery position, burnt and broken.

we fall into water.

we find a blow up dingy, orange and black like the rich kids at an English sea side would parade.

the air is escaping: the cap is loose,  I blow and secure.

My beautiful boys and I
float to uncertain grounds. Uncivilised landscape greets us.

fear takes over my blood cells, survival seems a negotiation with hope.