hope is available to us
This night was a drizzly one. I am awake, sitting on my bed and thinking. Sleep had refused to come to me, and my rational self-was demanding an explanation. I am wishing there is someone I can talk to,but in the absence of anyone; I try to talk to myself but my voice is a mixture of revulsion and amazement.

All day long, my mind had turned to a creative artist busy painting a picture of the agonies of the common man in my country. And as I begin to ponder on why the common man is been su ...
Author: daniel nzenwata
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