there’s an empty space inside my heart, where the weeds take root

kenya, december 6, 2013

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I woke up to the same stupid rooster crowing in the darkness. I was reminded of the three roosters of Ragnarok, crowing out the end of the world. I had slept off and on for a few measly hours. I got out of the creaking bed as quietly as possible, which didn’t happen to be very quiet. Opening the curtains, I was shocked to discover that it was in fact morning. Night seemed to have passed in a moment. The damp world outside was a limited view of the apartment building next door, and the parking lot, planted with palms and shrubs on the edges. The maids were out of the room, and I was alone. I could hear voices outside, singing in either Kiswahili or a tribal dialect, though I couldn’t say which. It was day two of my stay in Kenya. I still didn’t feel right. The distance from home weighed heavily on me. The singing just reminded me of how far away this was. The rooster continued to crow triumphantly at my unease.

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