''when the mouth can not speak for the heart...'' i believed there were things hidden deep within and only felt through the eyes.
He stood up gradually, partially bent over on his walking stick why he chooses a stick taller than he is, i can not tell but as usual with a cutlass on his right and the stick on his left he is on his way to the farm, an old but strong man when he walks, it is as if, He is going to tumble over but he never does, he takes it one step at a time till he gets to the farm a brave old man today he paused by the window listening carefully to the radio some time he smiles some time he frowns still rooted there holding his stick then He looked up finally and said, that war!, that war!!, then he heaved a sigh looked up to the sky my son! we saw something He shook his head slowly no no no it was terrible where is this radio, my son. London. i replied. then He shook his head again they will close it, he said before moving on one step at a time.