A vain attempt to forget, friends that die with ancestral sins, friends that die out in the cold. Innocence, his whisper filters in the night. I walk away, a cold bed, an empty stomach. The morning coming, to Mama I return. Do not call me innocence.
Innocence is life, a child, a bird in the open blue skies.
Mr. Mufalo is taking a PhD at the Department of Geomatics, University of Cape Town.