We are waiting on the shore to be hit by another wave. A wave or rather waves?
The former wave caught us together, drowned us and we drowned holding our hands together.
Inside the loop, both of us suffocated, exchanged glances as if those were the final moments.
We realized when we touched the arid, dry, sandy ground that it was just the beginning of a chain. Chain of waves.
The former wave, Osun, taught us how to be strong.
Now, here we are standing legs wide apart, hands wide apart, and nothing is intertwined, waiting for the next set of waves.
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