Category: writing
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goodbye poem
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São Paulo by morning- when I last left you, já era noite. But in this morning light I see your predios, tall, multi-floor- um pedaço do ceu pra cada um, housing your workers- some of them. And in between, a glimpse of Baiano brick- It’s not all street and concrete.…
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how?
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How do they do it?Is it a morning coffee accompaniment?It might offer something as smooth,or as bitter as that coffee-depending on your continent…and coffee of choice).Or maybe it’s the 10 o’clock tea:One scone of foolishness,with some parliamentary raise jam to go please…Or the side dish to their 1 o’clock lunch,leaving…
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don’t let that let you…
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A peopleformerly neglected by governments,on the periphery of things:transport, water, electricity-in a word, services.But don’t let that let youassume many things about them!
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drums heating up
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Dimas and Ro take turns checking the readiness of the drums: ta! ta! on the biggest drum- almost ready;ta! on the middle-sized one- this one too;ta! ta! … ta! ta! ta!the smaller ones- candongueros are not quite done yet.One more application of cachaça, and move them closer…
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hukuskia?
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The past could not imagine me,the present has not imagined me.contemporary modern woman? Of courseI have to speak in correctBritish English, exhalingvowels and consonantsthrough my nose…roll my tongue… Lakini wapi?Hata hiyo mdomo ikijaribuhaiwesmake – na bila apology.Walisahau kuambia nahodha,lugha ilikuja ikimwagikanga kwa njia. Na hii hatukuisaveka petroli ya tanker Mombasa…
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winter rain
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It starts off slow, cautious,tiptoes onto your old tin roof.A little bit here,A little bit there.Then before you know it,there’s multiple drops courting your single roofwith stories of their travelsaround this huge lonesome city,that is so cold in winter.No wonder they seek,the warm companionship of this old roof.These winter drops…