by Bill Kouélany We are on a bus – my sister, my girlfriend and I. It is hot. Sweat is pouring from my girlfriend’s armpits, slipping down her arms, wetting her school uniform. I watch as the stain spreads, taking up more and more space. I move closer to inhale the smell. Appalled, my […] The (…)
Site référencé: Chimurenga Chronic
