Saturday, 30 May 2009


Sunshine. Sun-shine. Shining sun. It's the only victimless happiness. A single brid, soars in an azure sky, a sky free of darkness, devoid of cloud. The blue of the sky and the green of the land are in perfect harmony togther - a cornicopia of different shades and hues. Lush medows, dapple with yellow, roll out all around me. It couldn't be more perfect.

Yet if I turn my head to the side, I see cloud. Small white cloud, which is an omen of worse to come, Soon the sky will bloat, the bruised belly will hang low, and the heavens shall split, bringing with it a torrent of rain.

Which will feed the fields. It's as Tamakhulu Afrika said:

Nothing's changed.

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