It swirled around his ankles, the dark cold waters of the Mumonom. The river was getting deep. Or was it he? He did not know. His narrow waist was now encircled by some fish he knew he had never eaten, he had never seen such as those. Soon, his closely shaven head was under but he kept breathing. He frowned. He knew something was not right, but of course nothing had ever been. The current of the water was strong but he seemed stronger. He began to feel like he was home, as if he had returned.
And then, he awoke back into the world where he could not breath under water.
Nana Yaa (c) 2016