Everybody in my village thought my mother was a phony or at least I heard few of them saying some terrible things about her. But in reality she wasn’t. I know I should have defended about the nature of my mother but I was always all too caught up with my own self. I knew I was a selfish bastard and I couldn’t help it. I still am and that’s why right now I am so far away from my home in a crunchy place that might break with a little strong wind.
I left my home three weeks ago and I always knew the world outside of home is a grand circus. But now I can’t go back to home. My mother: she probably haven’t slept for days now and her eyes are probably swollen with all the tears she might have shaded for a goddamn son like me.
These night bothers me sometimes. It makes me remember about some pretty days of my childhood when I looked happy as hell and some grim looking days from my teenage which I kept repenting about. Sometimes I hear voices out of falling leaves in the dead of the night, asking me to follow them to the kingdom where the sun never sets and no one sleeps hungry. Sometimes I travel around the world in my dream and always end up finding the straw roofed hut. I want to wake up immediately but the dream plays on till I see my mother coming out of the bamboo thatched door looking at her chest and trying to hook the blouse properly. I notice another face behind her but I don’t want to see it anymore. All I want is to wake up and scream. Then I try to hear the voice out of dead leaves and want them to call me to the place where the sun never sets and no one sleeps hungry.