I remember walking through that streets and seeing that man. The man I had once fallen in love with. It is as wierd as it sounds. How was I supposed to love a man like that?
A man who couldn't give me what I wanted.
He was drunk, beaten and half dead when I apporached him. Did he even recognise me? I didn't know. His lungi was till his knees, his hair was a mess.
He was in the same bar, his dear old friend Hassan had called to say. Hassan never drank and lay, half alive on the streets. He had a dignty, a respect.
But he made sure to tell me whenever my husband did.
I kicked him out for god's sake and told hasssan never to call me again if he was found like this.
Sprawled, legs apart, lungi half way up, his d**k almost out for someone to take a peek. Wet shirt, lips apart, snoring an
