Stories of Charles Seth Ofori. My fingers tremble as I look at them. They do not tremble out of anger. They tremble out of fear, out of terror of something that I cannot run away from, no matter how far I go. Sometimes, I hate myself. It is odd to think that, in being forced to grow up wit.

Sore feet of a nation remain on a journey,. Glass,these cut through the heart till it bleeds. Mummies relieved of the white linen that euphemize the dreaded;. Mirrors that have a people weeping whenever approached. Light reflected off these surfaces dance the steps. Far away from a fallen bond. A land that treads dangerous paths,a nation in pain. Rifles in the hands of men still boys,.

Magnified roars of an infinite dream. About that it has caused me to summon most existing and non-existent creatures? I basically want to convince you to see tomorrow as a paradox. Paradox is even a cliche. I want you to see tomorrow as a shadow of today. I want to convince you that tomorrow is actually today manifesting itself in a different manner.