Sitting at the balcony of my second floor room makes life look so still: firmly frozen in time and space. The weather is callously cold, unless of course I’ve decided to reduce my body temperature with the unknown potential of my brain: mind over matter. But on second thought, I could actually make an attempt, If I was been scorched on the sand dunes of the Kalahari Desert that is. However, the motivation to write tonight is not to bore you with the temperature changes currently taking centre stage due to global warming or seasonal changes, but to describe what a sight a silent night can conjure. Though this cold breeze finds it appropriate to distract my work, I’m not perturbed whatsoever. I mean the scenery is simply magnificent. I can count the many street lights looking like matchsticks set alight and buried in the ground. The only problem here is that these illuminated rods are of different colours, certainly not consistent with that of a brightly burning matchstick, more so beca...
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