I Will Survive

Wendy Muzlanova

It was the late seventies and I had just moved to a new town. My new friends from school told me about a disco on the other side of the town. It was to be held at the Community Centre that night. My side of town didn't have a strange and exotic building called a Community Centre. I suppose that the residents there were considered too rich to need one. I was up for going.

That afternoon, I bought a new shoulder-bag for the occasion. It was made of some plastic material and cheap, but I liked it. My previous bag had been given back to me covered with fag burns. I had lent it to my chain-smoking friend who was a very nervous anorexic. ... (continues)