Algebra never compiled our souls. Perhaps, it was indeed only after a long petitioning to the Head that the likelihood augmented. But then I had to literally sway them, and so I worked until I gathered pinnacle grades for the due. And later it was all a waste for a deportee, fatefully, departed. “Was love written in blood?” Hadrawi recites. On the discriminatory surface of my modest kindness, I have ears on my arteries. It once more occurred that I stared into her observers as she parked herself in a thirty degrees angle to my heart. It assembled precisely at my two o’clock. “Yes, it was written in the xylem of the Saharan trees,” I reply. Yet, I perceive that it happened in our hell. And who thought agony brought love? Who had the notion that such state, and I mean my Somaliland, came from the Somalia. Congratulations Somaliland.
Posted on: Thu, 03 Apr 2014 08:02:48 +0000
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