In spring 1985, with everyone’s expectant parents sweating and wedged into the auditorium chairs, it was my appointed task to kick off the school’s year-end performance by plinking out the opening strains of “We Are the World” on the music...
In the placid lean of an arid summer, in the lingering snarl of pit latrines, the sharp barbs of the acacia, in the opaque eyes of the girl whose fingers frenzy