
The only thing of iron, plastic, or leather-padding matter in the well-lit shrine of Pa Fakunle was the treadmill for his daily exercises. Badoo wondered why the old man needed a treadmill despite his usual long walks through thick jungles in his leave-gathering quests. Everything else under the roof in the shrine: woodcarvings of gods, […]
from Brittle Paper http://ift.tt/2gVdZVA
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