A 1647 tale.
I remember - my gaze swift falling from even dance of dozen clouds, from paddling of hued flies, descending, to a swirling of souls.
I remember - by twinkling gape of cloud halved yellow Sun, umber medley of creeping life, the many negroes scuttling, harried by a crimsoned lot.
I remember - the clouds running still, light, frigid, slaving bellows fast soaring, boring through now decade mist. I remember.
A warm noon by coasts of Lagos.