I hate you.
You smell like feet. And not just the feet of the ordinary good-natured man. But the feet of a vile unpleasant man who intentionally doesn’t wash his socks.
I shall never like you.
Or your mosquitoes.
Or your witchdoctors and seemingly endless supply of mad men.
Or your nameless hostels. I mean you’re trying to direct someone to your hostel and the best directions are, “drive until you see me standing under a tree!”
How can you comfortably lag behind the world? How can the concept of full-time electricity still be considered a luxury? How can tapped water still evoke “eh mama’s” from your doe-eyed populace?
Have you no shame, you district, you- have you no shame? I am one of the most wordy people in the world but I could never aptly describe my hatred for you.
Let’s just say, if the world were a body, you’d definitely be it’s unshaven armpit.
R. K , without love