The aroma of burning dry husk filled the room. The rays of the setting sun making their way through the crack of the window, kissed her shiny, long black hair which she caresses more than anything, call it her pride or the beauty of dark clouds settling over her head as her crown. Every man and woman in the village was fond of her, her hair. Her milkmaid status never came as a hindrance to her beauty as one white guy who visited her village wanted to capture her picture into his big lens.
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