There was something newly familiar about that face. I've seen it before I'm sure. This voluptuous ebony goddess strutting towards me. Sweet hips undulating, bewitching me, those heavenly legs carrying her in my direction, each step part of this tango of desire.
Her caramel skin kissed by the Caribbean sun, her smile radiant, brown eyes piercing my soul. Who is she? There is a vague familiarity to this new face. Caught in the rapture of her enigma, I stand gaping, labouring through the annals of my mind to unravel the mystery of this familiar face.
I feel a connection to her that transcends the boundaries of time and space. Convinced we were lovers in a past life and meant to be in this one, I smile broadly at her and wave; "hello, I've been waiting for you."
I have of late taken the view that no matter how rebellious, unconventional, non-conformist we would like to think ourselves, we are at some point always part of a similar grouping of people. We are never truly leaders, but followers. Followers, I prefer to refer to us as sheep; because at one point or another in our life we are all sheep. This is a place to express myself, vent my frustration with the sheepdom, and relieve my boredom. It is my therapy for all that contributes to my neurosis.
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