It is a fact that every day this time of year,at twenty-three seconds after 4:18, the entire Parthenon of animistic godlings and demons,trolls and sprites of dead chiefs that predated Muhammad, flex their bronzy thews and proceed to gang-piss on Assama. The earliest invaders clocked their movements by it; the lighting,the thunder, and the rain are the sole consistencies of this drowsy, turbulent land,ceaselessly full of surprises, none of them pleasant, all of them keeping you from ever feeling at home.

Author: Millard Kaufman