Africa Posts

What Becomes of the Broken Children?

IMG_6656There’s a stillness over the house, the unusual quietness that is companion to the sick and ailing.  The Bean is sleeping now, propped up against a pillow that deludes his Mimi into thinking it helps him breath, being upright a bit instead of flat on his back as he most often sleeps. A Venti Latte sits here on the floor beside me. I don’t usually order the large ones but after the long drive that began in the gloaming hour and ended too late, I knew I would need double the caffeine.

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The Boy & His Speculum: Out of Africa

We were driving through one of those neighborhoods that you can find in almost any city nowdays.

You know the ones where the houses are squished up next to one another like dolls on a shelf, all lavishly dressed, all so very pretty but yet so very different. One house has a stone front. The one next to it is a brick colonial. One has a turret. Another has a wide porch. Nobody has a yard. Instead they have what passes as green embroidery, a strip of grass that serves as a well-placed border.

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