Poems from ngopes

The morning light pours in, through the chink in the roof, a lace-like pattern on the veranda. I watch my grandmother milk the white jersey...
We wrapped a long length of red holy cloth around his body, slung him between two green bamboo poles and carried him to the edge of the...
When exams are over, and summer begins we become more active and trim down a bit ‘Over a period of ten minutes I saw them become violent...
Towards evening, I run a strand of tinsel across my veranda its loose ends rustling in the wind. My mother decorates the main door with...
Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return We come from dust; we return to dust. When our bodies die, our spirit returns to...

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