We were all in the workhouse hoping for the impossible – freedom. But we all knew what the word impossible meant. Once you’re in this absolutely horrific place the only way out was a coffin.
Outside one of the few windows, we could see children queuing but where were they going? We could not see where they were queueing for because we could not see where the back of the line was.
And all we were all thinking was we wish we could be there at the back of that line instead of this dreadful place.
One day I will hopefully be there.