The River
It was a chilly May morning. From the Shashe River bank near Baraka Lodge and the Engine fuelling station on the opposite side of the A1 road all one could hear was the sweet music of birds alternating and often overlapping with the metallic sounds of digging and tree-cutting tools as they hit against the hard crust of the river’s bottom kjsurface. A crust which over decades has developed, replacing a much softer and more user friendly riverbed in which one’s feet would have been pleasantly sinking deep into the abundant, eye-pleasing sand with a hue akin to some (imagined) creamed strawberry dessert.
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