The Streets At Home
I miss the streets at home. The smell of ground cumin, coriander and okra cooking for the main meal of the day.. I miss the silence in the afternoon heat before the streets begin to simmer with life; as the sun sets again.
It’s easy to swim with a current, crossing it is possible, but fighting it and going upstream is hard.
Eventually you realise you need something to hold on to. In the end the stream only goes one way.