Our 41st Year
We sat together, alone with our thoughts. But whereas we were both from Africa, he was of Africa. The abrasions of time inestimable etched his ancient face and his clothes were tattered from use beyond a life intended. He rested his chin on hands contorted from years of toil beneath the unforgiving African sun and his eyes reflected a deep sadness. “The time has come,” he said. “You must go. It is unsafe for you to remain in the village.”