the word came to me on a bike ride and i couldn't get it out of my head. i didn't even know what it was! so i looked it up, and several spellings later i am ridding the poem about "...midnight air sinking into my lungs" and "floating under a treetop roof".
moroni, the capital of grande comore off the coast of mozambique on the other hand, does not mess around.
maybe i should write about things that matter, i tell myself.
some of the only information i could find about the island is here. sounds captivating and gruff. almost unfriendly in the most beautiful of ways. i feel limited in my geographical knowledge, which limits my power. because i do have power. we all do. but what am i doing with it?
this morning in moroni i can only imagine what the people there awoke to, a day full of hard work? political strife? heat, stress, exhaustion, fear and not enough food? again? beauty and pain as far as the eye can see?
another place i do not know but want to try.