In my generation, there were many
games; ampe, hide and seek, pilolo and
seesaw. You better do chores in
haste and prepare to
play. The night dresses in moon
light. And fireflies flew here and
there. When it\'s dark, no one
dares. Except bonfire that
flares. After the moon
sets and all stories are
said, we lay to
rest. Then pops up the
nightmare. In it was a ship
that needed an
anchor. On the thirsty
waters. Anchor that cut the
aorta of the engines\'
heart. Circulation
stopped. Oxygenated blood
clot. The skeleton of the turbines could be
seen. Total blackout set
out. How could we go
out? Benched lanterns got
call-up. Their rusted wicks are
oiled. Intestines of the rocks
growl. Indeed Volta was
hungry. No food in her
pantry. Suddenly, her bed got
exposed. Evaporation was the
perpetrator. The nightmare
ended us in dumsor.