
“…long after the van had taken off…the cry of the prisoner still hovered in the air, like the aroma of absent food.” Weariness descended on Ejindu like drizzles, slowly flushing out the leftover strength in him. It was this sense of crippling exhaustion that sickens you; that, like a duster making a smooth passage […]
from Brittle Paper http://ift.tt/2jTxAJs
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