The comments are sharp enough to pierce a man’s bladder and make him piss all over the floor. The elders could not get past the corners of the painting, never mind its window. The pang of words sliced my father into an exposed shell. He wept uncontrollably and quickly ushered them out. His hope was dangling in front of me, as if it would fall like a teardrop unattended. I too cried that day in confusion. If my father loses hope then what is left of me?
-Xola Stemele
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