From the Watchman's Tired Eyes
1 The cloud remains gray and thick. The wind blows as though too eager to send the night away. One could hear a pin drop in the absolute silence. Then a faint sound of a rooster from afar saying, kookoorookoo! with doubts in mind. Then again, there is silence. As if the band is ready, waiting only for the bandleader testing the microphone, the animals begin. The roosters with gladdened hearts sing in call and respond. Faintly there is the crackling of plates from the next compound. Mama Shade must be up washing dishes and preparing her kids for school. The cloud at this time has become timid, as though the earth is bullying it. The gray cloud gradually becomes lighter with a bluish hue. Far away is the crackling of a megaphone, the tireless imam is back, calling for prayer. From all directions, one can hear the footsteps of devotees answering the...