I remember the siku when i promised myself that i would never return back, the place where i am being forced to return. I have never been this scared before in my life. i would give anything right now to back to my dad, in my room, with Jacob, where i am salama in the slightest and not on a sunny,blizzering beaten road weaving throught the tropical streets of Jacksonville in the back kiti, kiti cha my mothers Commodore. Feeling my heartbeat throught my ears.
I can feel my lunch begin to rise as i started to remember the mitaani, mtaa signs, the local bakery and smells of humiddity. My Mothers belly inferred with...
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