There, Mr. Williams saw faces he recognized,
And inside, a neighborhood clashed
With a reality he didn't understand.
They gave him a rifle
And asked him to defend
What he may ever get a chance
To know what and if "it" existed.
So many clues to a peeled onion upside down
Drenched in frivolous pretences,
The garden of hope eclipsed
The ravaged plains below
Where the freedom fight laid dead.
Too much hope to invigorate
And the year was nineteen fifty three
When Williams encountered a world
Of the wasted and mimed kind
Indolent reminders of barbaric grips
Sobering it was to a sunken smile
And hasty to a wide open eye.
(Excerpt from Erpsville, the Novel)
Said Leghlid, 2003.
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