Hobble tin roofs and humble mud walls Garbage strewn paths and cobble stone roads Colonial relics and gated villas Lazy courtyards and majestic green flora A comunity ebbed with tradition and lost in Western flash This is my village in a distant land These are my streets On these streets one smells: raw waste freshly sliced pineapple fumes of gas sweat charred fish and the desperate scent of time baking in the sun On these streets on hears: the haggling of prices the buzz of motorbikes and scooters the laughter of gabbing hairdressers and jovial mechanics the scurrying feet of uniformed school children and the silent anguish of a begger drowned out by a lively salsa tune On these streets one sees: A frenzied crowd with drums and sticks enticing a vodoun festish Tiny lizards on coarse cement walls basking in the morning light Dusty old dogs and sleepy babies napping in the solice of a shady siesta And an old man as he turns to face the distant mecca for prayor, his withered cattle grazing in a vacant lot On these streets one feels: The hands of curious children touching foriegn skin for the first time The overpowering heat and fatigue of a mid-day sun The red dirt of this mighty African contanent rubbing between toes And the truely vived sensation of being alive These streets: Held together by the rich history of this ancient land, and a struggle for life in this bold new world These streets: Live and breath through the comtotion of this daily performance It's actors well accustomed to this tale of cruel and beautiful humanity This is my village in a distant land These are my streets
Lovely, lovely. I have seen this, these streets...so perfectly described... is this work inspired by Morocco, perhaps? Either way, great work! Thanks for sharing brother
