Just like ice, lives crack, too. Personalities. Identities.

I would.” He kissed the top of my head. “I saw Ian’s face; it was like his own flesh was being torn, each time Jenny screamed.” My arms were around him, stroking the ridged scars on his back. “I can bear pain, myself,” he said softly, “but I couldna bear yours. That would take more strength than I have.

It was one of those dangerous moments when speech is at once sincere and deceptive - when feeling, rising high above its average depth, leaves flood-marks which are never reached again.

Im waiting for the month,the week,the day our world shall be pronounced covid 19 free world,no mask needed

Written By Jane Matsinye

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