If one loved in the Indian provinces, one could only love in English, with “I love you.”
But was there a better way to put these pronunciations on the page?
If poetry is an act of discovery for a writer, then even a computational poem has to uncover something new.
A daughter who is jia 嫁 is out of the house is gone forever, water poured out of a bucket, never whole, never yours again.
For me, Khelobedu is a language, a culture, home. For most South Africans, it doesn’t exist.
What kind of story would you like to write?
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