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137

When grown- not fully- men, play football on a sand pitch, they raise dust resembling a Sandstorm's attempt to gain momentum- but failing to move past stirring dust.

From a distance, you see it, the colored fogginess, and wonder if it is yet another figment of the moisture-less harmattan. A man passes by, nose shielded by dust-absorbed handkerchief. You think that it must be bad, and proceed too, to shield your air waves.

The closer you go, the browner the scenery. Only it's not just brown- it's loud. Neck cranes leftward, and like dawn, the realization gradually settles. This has been yet another of life's lessons in literature: one more metaphor to use. Because now, you will know just what you mean when you compare something to grown- not fully- men, playing football on a sand pitch.

Prose by

Name
Ifeanyi Ibegbu
Location
Ibadan, Nigeria
Mini Bio
Blogger, aspiring writer, Economist in the making. Art lover in all its forms. Big, big dreams.
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www.lapenseuse21.wordpress.com
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Name
Noel Lopez
Location
Northern Cal
Mini Bio
designer, photographer, friend of dogs
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