Dedicated to Joanne Mackin
Daisy’s heart belonged to Africa. Rayn had it on loan and was holding tight for the time being but deep down he knew her heart belonged to Africa. Africa called to her, there was no love nor compassion, not in the way he felt love and compassion. There was just a deep conviction that she had shared her body with a person of its land, had opened her mind to its rhythm and therefore had claim to her heart. Her body, her life, her love belonged to Africa and she was punished in her absence.
*
So much mist swirling around the mountainside, parting only to expose the mass of trees which clung confidently to the slopes. Surely, with such conditions, there must be gorillas. If not I am shocked and vow to travel to Africa and inform the hairy inhabitants of countries to the North with better economies and less disease. They would have to bring their own bananas but small sacrifice, I would tell them, for the grandeur of an Alpine life. I suppose I would have to first consult the cows I have seen grazing on the lower slopes. I am sure they wouldn’t mind.
The cows contradict me, telling me I am foolish. That I can offer all the benefits in the world, replicate the conditions to perfection and still it would never be Africa.
I fear they are right.
On Writing 