What Looks Like A Change

I mean to free write on this as much as possible, trying to cut back the need for Mabby's slick approval and for red dragon points. I furiously in awe of all my friends here, their stories always seem to hit home hard for me and its interesting how the tribes seem to bond together sub-conciously along economic lines. My name is Lily but that's not really my name. My name is Obroni, foreigner, whitie, stranger in this beautiful land. I am a symbol for all symbols, a mark of development and the oppressive past. I am the constant fight for finding space for heart in this world more and more enveloped in the fog of logical minds. I am not logical, and I would much rather be a liquid or a solid than a gas that chokes the life from the trees, the air, and the soul. I want a beat, both in heart and rythym, a spirit that will tell my ears what they are and show my body why it was broken out of the stone in the first place. AND this is what Ghana is, was, and I hope will remain. A supersonic orchestra that keeps all life alive.