The complain concerning the city can’t be compared with the outcry of Jeremiah (Lamentation), serious wind couldn’t expose the anus of a running hen, the market square was occupied by surviving homosapiens, dead but angry vegetables, obvious corrugated fore-head of the puff-puff sellers (hawkers, the unpleasant odour from the malnutrition fish monger. What of the bleached Lycopersicon lycopersicum (Tomato) that was blushing indiscriminately as if it’s heart had been won by the withered alligator pepper with its humble stalk, the unfathomable incessant hiccups of a tattooed vehicle bringing out cough and catarrh without engulfed with cold. God bless the eager-beaver that runs the race with endurance.
The oscillatory motion of a boiling drainage without evaporation in front of a teaching hospital. How I wish I could listen to the groanings of the expensive weave-on worn by the market women, the original walking steps of women of easy virtue and the inguinity walking steps of men of the underworld, just to acclamitize to the ugly atmospheric nature of a proud city. I acknowledge the wonderful tarred express road, but disregard the disgusting street accessible road.
Tales by moonlight of the mosquito in the afternoon. Experience as being a great conviction, the local sharwama (the smoked banana + gas from exhaust pipe of the moving vehicles) are eaten with enthusiasm.
Oh! Country side of honour, how then can you be compared with the suffering of the city, yet smiling. They mock you because they don’t know the inner beauty you possess, the smiling invisible face of the greens, the groanings of the withered leaves are still useful, where human-beings and animals affinity goes beyond positive expression.
The atmosphere seldomly frown because of the firewood they use for cooking. Oh! Beatific countryside where old people performs intensively because of the natural they eat. The differences is perceptible, those in the countryside eats naturals, so they are natural while those in the otherside eats the artificial, so they acts artificial. What a great juxtaposition. GOD BLESS OUR GRANDPARENTS that stayed and stays in the village.