The flames scream out from the parched earth. Ash mingles with dust and dances on the cooling air – night is approaching soft like a lullaby. The crackle and snap of burning brush soothes. The orange flames dance. The smoke conceals the smell of renewal.

The beauty goes unnoticed.

Pin pin boys race by on their motorcycles, heavy coats billowing behind them – caught in the wind. Boys with fire wood balanced on their heads, girls with bananas perched there, walk methodically along the worn path.

The sun sets deeper into the horizon, coloring the sky pink and azure, silhouetting the cotton tree lonely and bare in the distance. Mangoes, immature and green, languish unobtrusively on crowded branches.

Families gather in the shadow of fading light. Chickens squawk in protest of their anticipated place at the table. Coal pots drop glowing shards of orange coal to the ground as wisps of smoke unfurl into the trees.

Smiling children sing greeting, run to wave, to hug, to dance, to prove their bravery.

Another day fades…

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