In the hope of grasslands
stands an ancient Baobab tree
somewhere, a village
of dust & dirt, wakes slowly
she ties her shoelaces
an elephant walks past
on the distant horizon
the camera breaks
right at that moment
when she wants to take
a picture to bring home
so she resorts to postcards,
half-written letters
& learning the language
so she could impress them
the hotel porter, a lean boy
of merely twenty-two
watches her
his hunger is written
like lightning in his eyes