My heart belongs to Africa
Gun shots, fires, children running scared, crying, hungry, dying, women screaming, men fighting. I am plagued by these images, which are passed on as fact representing my home. I am not naïve though, I know my home is not without its faults but that does not make me love it any less. Am I scared? Yes. Do I want to run away? Sometimes. But ask me if I love you and my answer is yes. Do I miss you? Of course.