• pride_tales 10w

    It was a cool summer evening ,the old man sat in his hut which was on a river bank overlooking a glowing town. He reminisced the good old days, the hills that were once covered by green vegetation were now covered by factories and tall buildings.

    The people of this generation along with his grand children loved the way of the city. To him all this was nonsense, nothing seemed to entice him anymore in the so called civilised new world, he had buried one of his longtime friends and age mate the previous week and now he was the last one still breathing amongst the people who saw the first white man step foot onto the sacred African land..

    Faint memories of his good old days formed in his half grey half bald head as he blew up a ring of smoke from his pipe..

    "Damn, gone were the days"

    Pride tales

    Read More

    Ooh Old Man