Seeing Hands

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 In the raging mid summer heat in Juba, the capital of South Sudan, even the trees appeared defeated. Leaves shed their firm and upward tilting posture and instead, drooped, flaccid as an old bunch of spinach. The soil wasn’t just dry, but powdery to touch; each grain stood stubbornly apart from another like arid humans robbed off peace or love.  The sky, barren and cloudless, looked down scornfully at the dog day below. Continue reading “Seeing Hands”

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