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Running noses,
Cracked lips,
Dust-brown faces,
It is noon, yet no sight of the sun.
Wrapped in thick blankets, some still lie in bed.
Arms folded, hands pocketed, dragging feet,
Like a goat dragged home against its will,
Some carry themselves around.
Caps, hats, veils…
Coats, sweaters, overalls,…
The wind blows dust into unprotected eyes.
Hair, leaves, roofs, all wear a coat of brown.
The foggy weather deceives you that it’s morning.
All day long it’s breakfast, breakfast, breakfast.
Coughing
Sneezing
Shivering
You feel the cold in your bones,
You see the cold with your eyes,
You touch the cold with your hands.
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Writer Profile
AJI JAMES
I developed an interest in writing in primary school, where writing and documenting the stories that were told in the evenings when the family gathered around the fireside was a hobby.
This interest increased when I travelled to Nigeria for university studies. My thoughts found a way of expression through poetry, which I had hitherto thought very complicated.
I presently have over fifty poems, a little below twenty short stories, and several articles on diverse social issues.
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