All stopped screaming suddenly. Kunene, who had pulled his machete a moment earlier, let go off Hhohho’s hair and sat down, his mouth open. I saw many people close their eyes and unfold their arms. They looked like black angels.
It was getting bright and the people awoke in the village, while seven black women from Nigeria kissed six stubbly men and one woman good-night. The woman had more hair between her legs than any of the men had on their faces.
November 24, 2009 – 5:10 pm
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By flawnt
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Posted in bloody management
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Tagged africa, cauldron, England, men, NaNoWriMo, Nigeria, novel, November, Whitehall, whore, witch, women
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