Ant on the moon

She told me that she had always wanted to write to someone in Australia. Even when she was only ten years old and of course still in Russia she had been entranced by the image of Australia on the map, by this large, pink country all by itself at the bottom of the world with water all around it (and for this she made scooping motions with her hands). Europe was many coloured, but Australia was pink. All the children in the class had been invited to write to a child in another country and her teacher had asked her who she would like to write to, but when she had said a child in Australia the teacher had laughed. She might as well have asked to write to an ant on the moon – or so I thought she said as she swayed on her heels in her long pink dress.