Outside, water trickles into a bucket. drip. drip. drip.
Outside, a beetle is ambushed by driver ants. It’s putting up a fight. For its life.
Outside, a gust of wind surges past, rattling the iron sheet.
Outside, baboons chatter animatedly, after a successful raid on a nearby homestead.
Outside, a hen cackles helplessly after losing her two remaining chicks. They didn’t die; she just doesn’t know where they are. She literally lost them. Like the other three.
Outside, the two girls who live next door are chatting. They always have something to talk about.
Outside, a kite(bird) glides in the wind.
Outside, the one-eyed stray cat, almost symmetrically black and white, black on the left, white on the right, except for the face, tail and paws(grey, of course), is taking a nap.
Outside, music from the movie shop rents the air.
Outside, birds are suddenly chirping. Like they just realized it’s almost midday and they didn’t sing their morning songs.
Outside, the trees are dancing in the wind, like the wind is a song only they can understand.
Outside, two men talk about last night’s game. How the result was obvious.
Outside, a butterfly flutters. erratically.
Outside, behind his house, he smokes a blunt casually. Enjoying every hit. Always.
Outside, the tap runs dry, croaking out the drops as it breathes its last.
Outside, the ants carry away beetle’s remains. Yesterday a beautiful moth suffered the same fate. It wasn’t as slow to move as the beetle, but it had somehow fallen on its back and couldn’t turn over. In that helpless position it had been devoured, chunk by mothy chunk as it writhed in pain until it finally died.
Outside, a baby throws a tantrum. The toy she got isn’t the color she wanted.
Outside, a door closes. A padlock snaps. Footsteps walk away.
Outside, a bee buzzes from flower to flower, sampling the nectar.
Outside, a gentle wind caresses the bed sheet hung out to air. The way it undulates, like it’s being massaged… So beautiful.
Outside, a spider weaves a web across the mouth of a shoe, unaware it won’t last a day. The spiders here are always doing that. Damn spiders.
Outside, a cock crows; a crow caws.
Outside, the jalopy across the street wheezes to life, the exhaust coughing out a pathetic sputter.
Outside, a jerry can falls into a well. Its splash echoes in the opposite direction.
Outside, a motorcycle zooms past. The rider shrieking excitedly at the top of his voice. The thrill of speed.
Outside, a woman is washing utensils. She hums a local tune, punctuated by the clatter clang of pot and pan.
Konshius Beard 