She was beautiful.
I stood at the door to her hut and permitted my eyes to roam the shimmering ebony of her skin. It had long lost its tautness but still, I admired the lines that snaked along its surface; etches […]
They called it the dancing spirit.
But it looked more like a withered stem the height of a doorpost clothed in raffia fronds and straw, all of vibrant, discordant colors that pulsated rhythmically about its body […]