(I really like this picture. It inspired me to write the prose below. To view a larger image of the picture, just click on the image itself or the last link right at the bottom...)

She lies on her African back, breathing in the white man's autumn. In Nigeria, the weather has two seasons: eyes open,  it's rainy season; when closed, it spells the onset of bone-dry Harmattan.

Over here, the weather scatters into four, not two. The autumn is her favourite. It pours renewal into her bones; makes her feel like a child again as she kicks through a carpet of leaves laid by wood angels overnight.

She lies on her back and looks up at the tree. She loves this tree. It's female. Reminds her of the Iroko tree she left back home. Sometimes, she wonders if both are one and the same.

(pic credit: hhstudio)