Ville de I ’amour…translation the city of love and what better place for this love extravaganza than the hometown of Paris, France. Kissing under the Eiffel tower, cuddling on the c shaped curved benches, late night coffees with one’s fiancé in heavy jackets with matching mitten like gloves making hysterical jokes laughing as much…yes no better place than France. Similar to France there is no better place to experience man’s physical dominance, man’s sins shaded in the light for all to see, only one place brings this dark side of society in the light, Madagascar State Prison. A modified poker game table, two normal sized table joined together and four mean seating opposite of each other, and the card master the main player of this poker field runs over the cards doing crazy magic tricks like Pick a card then being all psychic and guessing the card but getting it wrong 90% of the time. After a bizarre comedy session, the real game begins, each inmate stacks their bet money in dollars

Stained glass patterned a male like image, glued and held by calms which was just lead and a rigid frame, blue pieces represented the sky, brown represented the man’s beard while light brown and black stood for the skin and the hair, an additional creamy white glass fractures represented the eyes, artistically brought together voila! Within the concave shaped gap in the wall and well located for the sun’s reflection the very presence of Saint Francis the Third filled the manyatta architectural structured Holy place for the Lord the Francis Deliverance Church, named after the saint himself. Though few knew of the saint stories circulated passed from a generation to the next via stories, nearly unrecognizable ages ago pictures, and various physical objects like a rosary with black beads but the third stained in red which was said to be the saint’s blood after he refused to deny his faith and a wooden cross which was said to be the saint’s used to stand for his faith and which he never

The cry of a son, night after night sheering with grief for the deeds of his father, was it an accident was it not? It doesn’t matter, not anymore, the fun times of his father poisoned his lungs, corroded each cell day after day, and he the perpetrator, his own father was nowhere in sight, ghosted his entire family for what money, glory, power, a mistress? He lacked answers, answers for questions he pondered all those days he saw kids his age with two of opposite gender while he had one, questions that brought tears to his mother, brought him endless nights, he filled the gaps with his own but no… there was only one answer. On his hospital bed, he wished for one thing as his clock approached death time, “Where is my dad?”, he couldn’t ask his mother, the last memory he would curse was his mother’s tears because of his wish, so as he glared at his dripper, drop after drop he counted, “One, two… eleven, thirteen… forty two...” he had nothing else to do but to count till he fell asleep

What is love and what is lust? Are they different or just the same synonyms of the other? Facts have answers, psychologists have their own, elders’ same answers shaded in a different limelight, but now what was Robert’s category under because it certainly wasn’t both L’s or was it? While the two were on their suicide missions, one on a road trip with lions while another on undercover in a Barbarian countryside, Priest boy was walking in the shadows of Sodom and Gomorrah. Bury had set sail when he unveiled Robert’s true colors, now what he had to do was use these colors to paint his dark world into his happily ever after dream but there was a catch there was always a catch. The early nineties, miniskirts were brought in the market and did it trend faster than a wild fire in the dry grasses of the Carnary Hills and also came the impurities it sewed within its velvet gold threads. In those days, men were cuffed by the gentleman’s rule, “Respect a woman because she is the replica of your

One clinched for love, another barged in lust, the other hungered vengeance… these three emotions, the driving force behind each, but at this moment… the most hectic of what they confess in their life… death played its random game, the childhood song Britain toddlers looped within, the Italians skipped roped with, Madagascar three-year-olds would drive their mothers nuts… three candidates, death made its choice. The sudden change in everything literally, the rag was slipped from under their feet and the butcher had the knife and the meat. While they were busy arguing seconds ago, they were inconsiderate of the greedy bastard lurking who never hesitated to devise his conning way out of this or was it into? Whatever it was he was definitely not in the plan but as the drunkards falling in the Nile shores murmur wrenching alcohol not even hyenas could stand ten feet close to them, “always be prepared”. Now this blonde back stabbing guard had demands expensive ones, he was aware of this w