#yirine

[wally-b-feed]

Anthony Fineran (B 1981), Olive Yirine Der, 2023

[shawariko]

{ ※ — play your end                   S&S

To: yirine

A step, and two, turned three, and then four; all careful enough not to disrupt the silent stroll of the beautiful man she had a fleeting fascination on, much like the others she’d seen— admired right then and there. There was something different about him, she thought. His lanky body was always covered in dark coloured clothing, contrasting with hers. Intrigued, she followed him in hopes of finding out what concerned him. What was it that he was interested in? Maybe she could be that, whatever it might be. It was what she was good for. To commit to an impression, and to follow it accordingly. Maybe she wasn’t born to please people, but she had grown to do so that it came naturally.

The background noise that were simply chirps of crickets overlapped with an echoed rhythmic tune before it faded out. A percussive break matched with chants of men, and women. He was nowhere to be found after the sudden shift in atmosphere. What occupied her senses now was a spoken word poetry pouring out in time with a beat, and she could feel anger just from listening but everyone else seemed to exhale in amusement. Everyone but her. Squinted eyes trailed on a female who seemed to be the source of this voice. She was surrounded by men. One of them must be her prince, camouflaging himself with the rest. 

She watched with judging eyes, the message of the female’s song turning wry in her ears, her very own eyes deceiving her and showing nothing but a crook. Once finished, she stepped away just as she did. The glower of her face quickly became animated with a smile. “Hey—” she tapped on her shoulder, swiftly hiding them behind her as she swung her body sideways, left and right. “You did great back there.”