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  • Writer's pictureAmanda Wowk


Witness. A piece inspired in real time.

18th September. A dreary and misty day of uncertainty in the city of Edinburgh. Looming in the unwavering fog is the duty of decision. Stickers of Yes. Placards for No. The future of Scotland rests in the hands of its registered voters - an astounding 97% of them. Would its citizens awake tomorrow to an independent Scotland? And if they did, what would this tiny, beloved (adopted) country of mine face -- economically, financially, divisively, unprecedentedly?

Or, would the United Kingdom remain intact? And if it did - what would become of both the union amongst countries, and the very much disjointed nation leftover from a progressively splintering race? Could the Yes's agree to disagree? Could the No's work with the apparent need for a stronger voice in Westminster?

I can only imagine the inner turmoil the passionately proud people of Scotland must feel at hand - the choice to listen to one's head versus one's heart. How does one decide amongst these two forces -- especially when both speak in a tongue I only grapple to comprehend? Isnae a decision I envy.

Amongst all of the uncertainty of today, one thing is very much certain - my insatiable gratitude just to be here. With a bit of luck and some very good timing, I'm reporting live from the enchanting city I've longer for for months. Just a few short hours ago, I awoke with a quick jolt as my plane touched down on the tarmac. My sleep-deprived head may have been slow to comprehend my surroundings, but with no disillusion, my heart knew - I was home. Sure, the door to my lovely flat on Palmerston Place wasn't open - but the arms of my dear friends were. As I set out to stroll the city, I selfishly feared the tense spirit of the day might change what I had hoped for in my first return visit. Would there be chaos in my city of magic? Would I still recognize it, in a flurry of news cameras and reporters? In pursuit of solitude first, I headed away from the city center. It wasn't long before my wishes were granted and nostalgia arrived in whispering, ghostly form. A cheeky wee bottle of wine (or two) here. A flash of laughter in good company there. As the memories flooded in and the fears subsided, I comfortably realized - this city will always feel like home. I wish the very best for its people whom I care for so dearly; may the decision not divide your loyalty, your pride or your faith in one another. For Scotland, ye are my heid and ye are my hart.

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