I am a living catalog, a bearer of numerous contrasting memories.
I have witnessed beauty’s purest forms, Mother Nature’s very own orchestrations, and I have seen Death steal lives with a staggering finality.
I am familiar with the smell of fresh rain and the taste of ashes.
I have attended harmonious ceremonies, where humanity was celebrated, and I have observed massive bonfires for which thieving humans were fuel.
I have witnessed a mother’s unconquerable love for her child, and the envy of a neighbor, vivid green in complexion.
I am not some aged traveller. I am but an African child.


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