melodies #6
Then I remember her talking about Africa; about the heat and
the colours and the smells; about the crowded busses plastered
inside with pictures from porn mags - white women with gaping
legs and vacant smiles; about the way the sky changed so quickly
it was so hard to trust anything to be real.
I wonder if, wherever you go, a little part of your soul stays
there, fragments like broken glass till youre scattered
around the world. It's like subtracting a minus number; you
end up gaining. Which leaves me with a peaceful feeling.
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